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*^WiTH THE Rook l'eon heu Rap, ani> one Arm akot'nu her 

Little Sister" Page 24 


RANDY’S SUMMER 


A STORY FOR GIRLS 


/ BY 

AMY BROOKS 

l| 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR 


BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS 
1900 
L • 


5 



TWo coHi t.* 





63296 

Bandy’s Summer. 




NorbJODU ^^rtas 

.1. S. Cushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 
Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I 

PAOB 

Raxdy and the Faiky Tales . . . . 1 

CHAPTER II 

At the Brook 16 

CHAPTER III 

Randy at Church 37 

CHAPTER IV 

Prue’s Mishap > 52 

CHAPTER V 

Helen Dayton’s Call 70 

CHAPTER VI 

The Picnic 88 

CHAPTER VII 

Randy outwits Jason Meade .... Ill 

iii 


IV 


CONTENTS 


Tableaux 


Callers . 


The Apple-Bee 


An Unexpected 


CHAPTER Vm 

CHAPTER IX 

CHAPTER X 

CHAPTER XI 
Visitor 

CHAPTER Xn 


PAOS 

. 124 


. 146 


173 


. 199 


A Wedding Feast 


. 218 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ With the book upon her lap, and one arm 

around her little sister ” . . Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Randy and Prue started for the brook , . 23 

Prue counts the daisies on Miss Dayton’s hat 46 

Randy carrying Prue in her arms ... 58 

On the way to the picnic .... 98 

“Nearer to the wall she crept” . . . 115 

“There stood Randy as the demure little 

maid ” 139 

Prue and Tabby reading the Pairy Book . 170 

“ < Why don’t you send the little girl a 

letter?”’ 191 

“At the head of a long table stood Helen 

Dayton ” 225 


V 





RANDY’S SUMMER 


CHAPTER I 

RANDY AND THE FAIRY TALES 

“Randy! Randy! where are you?” came 
in shrill, high-pitched tones from the 
kitchen. 

The girl on the wooden seat just outside 
the door neither moved nor heeded, so en- 
grossed in her book was she. 

“ Ran-dee ! ” This time there was a ris- 
ing inflection on the last syllable. Slowly 
the girl’s forefinger followed along the 
line which she was reading. A quick step 
across the kitchen, and a tall, angular 
woman appeared in the doorway, wiping 
her hands on her blue-checked apron. 

“Why, Randy Weston! Here I’ve been 


2 


ban^dy's summer 


callin’ and callin’ to you, and you’re right 
here at the door and never heard at all, 
I’ll warrant you. What’s that you’re 
readin’ ? ” 

^‘Oh, mother, I’m sorry I didn’t hear 
you,” said Randy, her face still aglow 
with the thought of the fascinating tale; 
“but the story was so wonderful that I 
never knew you called me.” 

“Must have been wonderful,” said Mrs. 
Weston, smiling. “What sort of a book 
is it, and where did you get it?” 

“Why, it’s the one I told you I found 
in the field back of the barn,” said Randy. 
“ It’s all about kings and queens, and 
princes and fairies, and goblins, and oh, 
it’s just the most wonderful book you 
ever saw ! ” 

“I hope it’s a good book,” said Mrs. 
Weston, doubtfully; “it sounds kind of 
outlandish, and I know one thing, I never 
have to call twice when I give you ‘ Pil- 
grim’s Progress ’ or Fox’s ‘ Book of Martyrs ’ 
to read.” 


RANDY AND THE FAIRY TALES 


3 


“But, mother, just see the pictures! 
Here’s the one that shows when the 
prince rode on the horse which was shod 
with golden shoes, and could run faster 
than the wind ! ” 

That was too much for practical Mrs. 
Weston. 

“Look here, Randy, that’ll do! That 
shows what kind of a book it is. Who 
ever heard of shoeing a horse with gold ! 
Land knows it costs enough to shoe them 
with iron; and as for running faster than 
the wind, why, anybody ’d know better. 
You give me the book till I ask your 
father what he thinks of it. I’ll put it up 
on the mantel, back of the clock, and show 
it to him to-night and see what he says.” 

As Mrs. Weston usually meant what she 
said, Randy was forced to submit ; but she 
could not help thinking it a trial to have 
to do without the wonderful book until her 
father should have time to read it. 

“Now,” said Mrs. Weston, “come in and 
help me make these pies.” 


4 


BANDY SUMMER 


Oh, yes,” said the girl ; while she 
thought, What a change from the prince’s 
castle to the hot kitchen and apple pies ! ” 
However, she was a thoughtful girl, and 
seeing a tired look on her mother’s face, 
she took a big yellow dish on her lap, and 
grasping a knife began to pare apples as if 
her life depended upon it. 

The first she pared rapidly and deftly, 
the next one took her a little longer, and 
the sixth she held in one hand while the 
knife lay idly in the other, as she gazed out 
of the window, wondering if the hot, sunny 
road which led to the village could be at 
all like the high-road over which the king’s 
huntsmen returned to the castle. 

“Randy Weston! I thought you was 
parin’ apples! Bring the dish here and 
we’ll finish them together. At that rate 
you wouldn’t get them done in a month ! ” 
Randy started. “ Oh, dear ! I meant to 
have peeled them in no time,” said she. 

“Well, never mind,” said her mother; 
“we’ll do them together, and then you can 


RANDY AND THE FAIRY TALES 5 

get out the things for me to make the crust 
with.” 

Soon the apples were pared, cored, and 
sliced, and away Randy hurried to the 
closet, getting the sifter, sugar-bucket and 
rolling pin, the spice box, and last of all, a 
lot of plates. 

Running back to the closet she brought 
out the lard and began to grease the plates 
in furious haste, so determined was she to 
show her mother that she was really will- 
ing to be helpful. How she admired the 
deft manner in which her mother rolled out 
the crust, stretched it over the plate, and 
inserted her knuckles to make it fit the 
hollow of the dish. 

Randy watched her as, balancing the 
crust-covered plate on her left hand, she 
swept the knife which she held in her 
right swiftly around the edge of the plate, 
trimming off the extra crust. 

“ I wish I could make pies as quick as 
you can,” said the girl, “and have them 
turn out right every time, too.” 


6 


bandy's summer 


Mrs. Weston smiled at the compliment 
so earnestly expressed. 

Mebbe you can, when you’ve made as 
many as I have,” said she. 

‘‘ Now get the broom, Randy, and sweep 
up the flour I spilled ’round the table and 
put the apple peels in the bucket, while I 
commence to wash up the cookin’ dishes.” 

Randy got the broom and began to sweep 
vigorously. “ I wonder,” thought the girl, 
if princesses have to bake pies, and wash 
dishes, and sweep hot kitchens.” She could 
not remember of any mention being made 
of either pies or kitchens in the fairy tales 
which she had been reading, so she con- 
cluded that in those delightful days no 
such things existed. 

‘‘ They must have had pies,” she said to 
herself, “ so p’r’aps they had somebody to 
bake for them, same’s Mrs. Hodgkins has 
Sophrony Brown to help her about the 
housework. 

“ Sophrony Brown doesn’t look ’s if she 
belonged in a castle, even to stay in the 


BANDY AND THE FAIRY TALES 


7 


kitchen, if it had one,” thought Randy. 
‘‘ Her hair’s red, and so are her hands, and 
they’re awful big, too. Everybody in that 
splendid book was handsome, and they all 
had little white hands and tiny feet, too.” 
Here she stopped and took a long survey 
of her own feet, encased in coarse, cowhide 
boots, with leather lacings. 

“ The shoes and slippers in the pictures,” 
mused Randy, “ have beautiful bows on the 
toes, and they have tiny little heels. I 
wonder how they ever managed to walk on 

them. ” So still she stood, looking down 
at her shoes, the broom held listlessly in 
her hand, that her mother turned to see 
where she had gone. 

“Why, Randy Weston, what ails you? 
You’ve been mooning ’round all this morn- 
ing. You do try to help me real good, and 

then, first thing I know, you’re miles away 
thinkin’ of something or other. I say, 
whatever ails you ? ” 

“Nothing,” said Randy, “I was only won- 
dering about the fairy tales in the book.” 


8 


randy's summer 


^^Well, more’n ever I think it can’t be a 
good kind o’ book to read, that makes a 
good, sensible girl so took up with it that 
she can’t think of anything else.” 

But if father says it’s all right, I can 
read it, can’t I ?” said Randy. 

suppose so,” said the tired woman. 
“ Now go and find Prue. Like enough 
she’s into something by this time.” 

Little Prue had a positive talent for in- 
venting mischief, and as Randy hastened to 
the door to call her, she remembered that 
the little sister had had at least an hour 
in which to play without supervision. “ I 
do hope,” said Randy, “ that she hasn’t 
torn her dress or lost her sunbonnet while 
I’ve been helping mother with the cooking. 
I’ll call first, and if she don’t answer, then 
I’ll hunt for Ler.” So, standing in the 
doorway, she called long and loudly. 

Such a pretty picture Randy made, all 
the sweeter because she never dreamed that 
she possessed the beauty of which she read 
in the fairy book, and for which she so 
ardently longed. 


RANDY AND THE FAIRY TALES 


9 


The kitchen doorway was low, and up 
on one side grew scarlet runners, which 
over the top clasped tendrils with the morn- 
ing glories as they clambered up the other 
side of the door-frame and half covered the 
kitchen window. 

The cool wind from across the meadow 
fanned Randy’s flushed cheeks, and tossed 
back some short brown ringlets from her 
forehead, for Randy’s hair would curl, as 
she said, “ spite of anything.” She did her 
best with brush and comb to make it lie 
smoothly, but the short ends flew back 
every time, and curled and rippled in a 
manner which would have been the envy 
of many a city girl who was a slave to 
‘‘ curlers.” Her hair was a soft, light 
brown, and her eyes were large and gray, 
bright and twinkling. She was quite tall 
for a girl of her age, just fifteen that sum- 
mer, and she stood as “ straight as a birch,” 
her father said. 

Her plain calico gown and coarse apron 
could not hide her trim figure ; and, judg- 


10 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


ing by her small, shapely hands, and slen- 
der fingers, one would say that with dainty 
boots instead of cowhides, her feet would 
be as shapely as her hands. But Randy 
had never thought much about beauty or 
personal adornment until the finding of the 
wonderful fairy book. She had been dressed 
like the other children in that little country 
town, and had never seen a fashion book or 
a stylishly dressed person in her life. Mrs. 
Weston had taught her children to think 
that to be neat and clean was to be well 
dressed, and certainly Randy and Prue 
were always dressed in clean gowns and 
aprons, and stiff-starched sunbonnets. Yes, 
Randy was more than pretty. Would she 
one day know it ? 

Long and patient calling brought no an- 
swering shout from little Prue, so Randy 
snatched her sunbonnet from its peg on 
the wall, and started in search of her. 
She looked in every place, both possible 
and impossible, and she laughed as she 
thought of the funny scrapes the little 


BANDY AND THE FAIRY TALES 11 


sister had gotten into. She thought of the 
day on which their aunt, Miss Prudence 
Weston, had come to visit them, bringing 
three bags and as many bundles, although 
she was to stay but a week. 

She had always lived in a little town in 
one of the Western states, and as that 
week’s stay was her first visit to her broth- 
er’s home, she was really a stranger to 
Randy and Prue. The children had known 
only that little Prue was her namesake, 
and that she was a person well-nigh perfect. 

“ Your Aunt Prudence never did that,” 
was a remark so frequently addressed to 
little Prue that that lively, mischievous 
little being conceived a great dislike for so 
perfect a person; and, although she dared 
not say so to either father or mother, she 
confessed it freely to Randy when at night 
they lay in their little bed in the chamber 
under the eaves. 

‘‘ I think it would be just horrid to live 
in this house if Aunt Prudence lived here 
too, don’t you, Randy ? ” said little Prue 


12 


randy's summer 


in a loud whisper. You’re good, Randy, 
and you know I love you, but you can be 
naughty and Aunt Prudence can’t, that’s 
the difference.” 

“ Oh, hush ! ” Randy had said. I most 
think it’s naughty not to like her. We 
don’t know but may be she’s real nice if 
we knew her.” 

“Don’t want to,” whispered Prue, “don’t 
want to, ever. If she staid here I’d — I 
mean I’d — ” but the tired little sister had 
gone fast asleep and left Randy to wonder 
just what she would have done. 

Immediately upon her arrival Miss Pru- 
dence had removed her wraps, and had at 
once taken out her knitting from a volu- 
minous pocket, saying to the two staring 
children, as she peered at them over her 
glasses, “ It’s not right to waste time,” and 
as soon as they had made their escape to 
the kitchen, naughty little Prue had said, 
“ Randy Weston ! If keeping busy would 
make me look like that, I’d just do nothing 
forever and ever.” 


BANDY AND THE FAIRY TALES 13 

Funny little Prue ! Aunt Prudence’s 
sharp eyes behind her spectacles, her 
‘‘false front,” and tall, angular figure, 
had strengthened the child’s preconceived 
dislike. Then that day before their aunt 
had bidden adieu to the Weston farm, 
Randy had caught Prue perched upon a 
chair, which made her just high enough 
to see herself in the glass. On her head 
was Miss Prudence’s best cap, on her saucy 
little nose the big, old-fashioned spectacles, 
over which she peered at herself, saying, 
in imitation of her aunt, “ I never waste 
time, no, not a single minute.” 

Randy had escaped to the barn where, 
on the hay, she had laughed until she was 
tired; all the time feeling guilty, for she 
knew that, funny as the sight had been, 
Prue had been very naughty. Prue was 
a little captive in the house that after- 
noon, a great trial for her, and at night 
her father had talked with her and told 
her that she must always be kind to every 
one, especially to old people, and Prue had 


14 


randy's summer 


promised, at the same time saying that, ‘‘ if 
Aunt Prudence was always good, it was 
easier for grown-up people to be good.” 

Around the house and barn, down by the 
well, and, lastly, into the barn went Randy, 
calling, “Prue! Prue ! where are you?” 

Here ! ” called a little voice. 

“ Where ? ” shouted Randy. 

Up here ! ” came the answer, which 
appeared to come from the loft. 

Up the ladder went Randy, and, once at 
the top, she espied a funny little figure 
sitting on the hay. “Why, Prue,” said 
Randy, “ what are you doing up here ? 
Why didn’t you come when I called?” 

“ I couldn’t,” said Prue ; “ I’m helping 
mother, and I’ve got to stay. Mother said 
you could help her make pies, so I came 
up here and I’m sitting on some eggs. The 
old hen’s left them, and mother said they’d 
just got to be set on.” 

“Oh, Prue!” said Randy, “you’d ought 
to know better. If you’ve smashed them, 
won’t you be a sight?” 


RANDY AND THE FAIRY TALES 15 


“I ain’t smashed them,” said the child; 
but upon Randy’s insisting, she rose from 
the nest, only to show that not an egg 
remained whole, as her pink calico dress 
plainly showed. 

“Well,/ never got into such scrapes,” 
said Randy, for once out of patience. 

“ Now, Randy,” said Prue, “ don’t you 
talk that way ; that’s just like Aunt Pru- 
dence and that silenced Randy completely. 

Randy’s first thought was a longing to 
shield Prue, but she knew that her mother 
wished them always to come to her at once 
when any mischief had been done, so, a for- 
lorn little procession of two, they walked 
toward the house. 


CHAPTER II 


AT THE BROOK 

The next morning dawned bright and 
fair. Randy awoke and rubbed her eyes. 

I believe there was something that made 
me uncomfortable yesterday. W onder what 
it was ? ” thought she. “ Don’t see what it 
could have been,” mused the girl, half 
awake. “ I helped mother with the baking 
and swept the kitchen for her, because I 
knew I ought to, instead of reading that 
fairy book. Then I hunted for Prue. — 
Oh, that’s it ! mother had to scold her, and 
that always makes me feel just awful. 

She was naughty, and seem ’sif she 
might know better* than to get into such 
queer scrapes, though she isn’t much more 
than a baby.” 

Here Randy turned over and looked at 
16 


AT THE BROOK 


17 


her little sister, who was still fast asleep. 
“ How pretty she looks ! ” said Randy, half 
aloud. The sleeping child stirred, and 
thrust one chubby arm and hand under her 
short curls. She drew a long breath, which 
was half a sigh, her eyelids quivered, opened, 
closed, then opened wide, and she stared at 
Randy, who, leaning upon her elbow, was 
gazing at little Prue. 

“ Oh, Randy ! what are you looking at 
and thinking of ? ” said Prue, half laughing. 

‘‘1 was just thinking,” said Randy, ‘‘that 
when you’re asleep you don’t look as if you 
could ever be naughty.” 

Prue stopped laughing, and, puttmg her 
arm around her sister’s neck, she said, “ Oh, 
Randy ! I never mean to, and ’most always 
when I’m naughty it’s when I’m trying to 
help. Don’t you know that time when I 
dropped the platter and broke it all to 
smash ? Mother put down the towel she 
was wiping it with to look in the oven to 
see if the bread was burning. I thought 
I’d s’prise you and mother, and show you 


18 


bai^by’s summeb 


I’d wiped the big platter nice and dry. Just 
a minute before, mother said it was too big 
for me to handle, and that just made me 
want to.” 

I know it,” said Randy, “ I know you 
mean to be good, and I do believe you can’t 
help ■ doing funny things, you best little 
sister in all the world,” and she kissed 
Prue, laughing at her at the same time. 

“ Now, do be good to-day, and, if you don’t 
do a naughty thing before dinner. I’ll do 
something splendid. I’ll have to help 
mother this morning, and do a lot of 
things. Then, of course. I’ll wipe the din- 
ner dishes, and after that you and I will go 
down to that shady place by the brook, and 
I’ll tell you some of the stories I read in’t 
that book I found.” 

‘‘Oh, will you?” said Prue, “can you 
’member them ? ” 

“ Yes, some of them ; I can’t remember 
all of them yet,” said Randy. 

“ Why don’t you take the book and read 
them ? ” said Prue. 


AT THE BROOK 


19 


“ Because,” said Randy, “ father’s got to 
look it over and see if it’s a good book first, 
mother says.” 

Why isn’t he ’fraid to read it, if 
p’r’aps, it isn’t good ? ” said the child, with 
such a funny expression on her face that 
Randy, who really did not know how to 
answer such a question, laughed, and said 
she thought it must be time to dress. 

Up sprang little Prue, and out upon the 
floor. You dress me first,” said she. So 
Randy put on the little one’s shoes and 
stockings, then, piece by piece, her other 
little garments, all the time silently admir- 
ing the round, dimpled arms, the roguish 
eyes, and tangle of short curls, and the 
sweet little mouth, honestly believing that 
no girl in all the world had so dear 
a little sister. Just as Randy turned to 
button the little dress, Prue uttered a joy- 
ous cry, and darted over to the window. 

“ Oh, come quick, quick ! ” she called. 

See the butterfly almost coming in our 
window.” And sure enough, when Randy 


20 


bandy's summer 


reached the window, there he was, a gor- 
geous fellow, with bright, golden wings, 
swinging up and down over a fresh rose- 
colored morning-glory. 

Oh ! ” cried Prue, “ isn’t it the hand- 
somest butterfly you ever saw ? ” 

Yes, and look at the dew-drops on 
the pink morning-glory,” said imaginative 
Randy ; “ I wonder if the necklace that the 
fairy queen wore looked as bright as that ? 
In the picture in the book it looks just like 
strings and strings of beads.” 

I liked the beads and her dress, with a 
long train to it; but in the picture she 
didn’t have a nice face ’t all,” said Prue, 
the young critic. 

. Oh, but she was bea-utiful,” said Randy. 

She must have been, the story said so,” 
but just here Randy’s raptures over the 
heroine of the fairy tale were cut short by 
a loud call of “Randy! Randy! Prue! it’s 
time to come downstairs ! ” 

So Randy hurried on her own clothing, 
and Prue amused herself while waiting by 


AT THE BROOK 


21 


counting the buttons on Randy’s best ging- 
ham dress as it hung on the first hook in 
the closet, and this is the way she half said 
and half sung it : — 

“ Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief, 
doctor, lawyer, — Randy, what’s a lawyer ? 
Your last button is a lawyer.” 

I don’t know,” said Randy ; “ ask 
father ; ” but when they had reached the 
lowest stair and entered the kitchen Prue 
had forgotten her question and asked an- 
other. 

“ Father,” she cried, ‘‘ have you read the 
book yet ? Are you going to let Randy 
read it ? the fairy book, I mean ? ” 

‘^Two questions in one,” said Mr. Weston, 
laughing. “ Why, yes, I guess I’ll have to 
let her read it, if she wants to,” said he. 

“ Going to let Randy read those outland- 
ish tales?” said Mrs. Weston coming out 
of the closet with a pie in her hand, which 
she placed upon the table. “ Why there 
wasn’t a word of truth in them.” 

I know it,” said her husband, smiling. 


22 


randy's summer 


‘^but I didn’t see anything wrong about 
them, and the yarns that are in the book 
are so big that no sensible girl, like our 
Randy, would s’pose she was expected to 
believe them a minute. I looked it over 
last night after I’d thought over that piece 
of medder land of Jason Meade’s that he 
wants to swap for my little pasture, and 
cal-lated ’bout what the bargain was worth. 
I just took down that fairy book from 
behind the clock, and I thought I’d just 
look it over to see ,if it was all right for 
Randy and Prue, and, if you’d believe me, 
’fore I knew it, I was ’most as interested 
as the children was. As you say, there 
ain’t any sense in it, but it reads kinder 
fine, I must say.” 

Mrs. Weston laughed, and said that she 
was willing enough to let them have it if 
the book was all right. 

Right enough,” rejoined her husband, 
“ only kind of foolish,” and smiling at the 
children’s eager faces he said kindly, ‘^Read 
it if you like, only don’t let it make you 
forget to help mother, Randy.” 


AT THE BROOK 


23 


‘‘ Randy don’t often forget that,” said 
Mrs. Weston, at which unwonted bit of 
praise, Randy flushed *with delight. 

Mrs. Weston was a hard-working woman 
who loved her husband >^nd children dearly, 
but so busy was she, that she forgot to say 
the encouraging word, or give the bit of 
praise, justly won, which seems a reward 
to the husband for his care and toil, and to 
the child for “ being good.” 

When the hot forenoon’s work was done, 
and the dinner dishes put away, Randy and 
Prue started for the brook, Randy carrying 
the wonderful book very carefully, and little 
Prue skipping along beside her. Across 
the fields, behind the barn, into a bit of 
woodland went the children, and there they 
found the brook, calm and placid in one 
place, rippling and chattering in another. 
‘‘ Hark ! hear it talk,” said Randy, but prac- 
tical little Prue said, “ It only says ‘ wobble, 
wobble, wobble,’ as it goes over the stones, 
and I don’t call that talking.” 

“ Well, I do,” said Randy, and I always 
wonder what it says.” 


24 


bandy's summer 


‘‘How’ll you find out ? ” said Prue. 

“ Oh, Prue ! ” said Randy, “what makes 
you ask questions that nobody could an- 
swer ? ” 

“ But somebody could,” said the child ; 
“if it really says anything, somebody, some- 
where, would know what it means, now 
wouldn’t they, Randy ? ” 

“ I do believe there is some one who 
could understand it.” Randy spoke so 
earnestly that Prue stopped throwing peb- 
bles at the water-spiders and throwing her 
arms around Randy, she said, “ Oh, Randy ! 
don’t look that way. When your eyes 
get big, and you just think and think, it 
makes me lonesome. Do begin to read 
the fairy stories.” 

So Randy roused herself from her dream 
about the brook, and sat down, with Prue 
close beside her, on a rough plank which 
spanned the tiny stream. There, with the 
book upon her lap, and one arm around her 
little sister, she read the tales of wonder 
and enchantment, while the sunlight, sift- 


AT THE BROOK 


25 


ing through the leaves, touched her hair 
and made a halo around the sweet face. 
Parts of the stories were too much for little 
Prue to understand, but such of them as 
her small brain could take in delighted her. 

Randy read very well, although she had 
had but little schooling, and her delight 
in the splendor which the stories described 
gave added expression to her reading, and 
delighted little Prue exclaimed, “Oh, Randy, 
you make it seem as if it was true ! ” 

Randy laughed, well pleased with the com- 
pliment, and continued reading: “And as 
soon as she heard the witch’s voice, she un- 
bound her tresses.” 

“ What’s ^ tresses ’ ? ” interrupted Prue. 

“ Why, hair,” explained Randy. 

“Then, why didn’t they say ‘hair’?” 
said the child. 

“ Tresses sounds nicer,” answered Randy. 

“ I don’t know,” said Prue, doubtfully. 

“ Well, I do,” said Randy. “ If my hair 
was long, I’d enough rather have it called 
tresses.” 


26 


bandy’s summer 


ril call it tresses,” said obliging little 
Prue, “ even if it isn’t very long. Now, go 
on, Randy.” 

So Randy continued : ‘ She unbound 

her tresses, and they fell down twenty ells, 
and the witch mounted up by them.’ ” 

“Oh, my, my! ” interrupted Prue, “your 
hair’s longer’ n that ! ” 

“Longer than what?” said the aston- 
ished Randy. 

“ Twenty ells,” said Prue. “ When you 
showed me the other day how to print a 
Jj, it wasn’t very big. Would twenty of 
’em be so very much ? Your hair is most 
down to your waist, when I stretch the 
ends out so they don’t curl.” 

“ 0 you funny child ! ” said Randy, half 
laughing, half impatient. “It doesn’t mean 
that kind of ell. What’s the use of reading 
the stories? You ask so many questions, 
I don’t believe you half hear them.” 

“ Oh, I do truly want to hear the stories, 
and if you’ll only read, I won’t ask a ques- 
tion, ’less it’s something I can’t make out.” 


AT THE BBOOK 


27 


Again Randy found the place, and for 
some time the story went on without inter- 
ruption. Once they paused to see the 
picture of the lovely girl in the tower, then 
Randy went on : — 

“ ‘ The king’s son wished to ascend to her, 
and looked for a door in the tower, but he 
could not find one. So he rode home, but 
the song which she had sung had touched 
his heart so much that he went every day 
to the forest and listened to it. As he thus 
stood one day behind a tree, he saw the 
witch come up and heard her call out : — 

“ ‘ Rapunzel, Rapunzel, 

Let down your hair.’ 

Then Rapunzel let down her tresses, and 
the witch mounted up.’ ” 

“ Oh, Randy ! ” cried Prue, excitedly, 
“why, didn’t it ’most pull her head off?” 

Randy laughed. “0 Prue, Prue!” she 
said, “I do believe you think of the fun- 
niest questions to ask.” 

“But, Randy, do you b’lieve it didn’t 


28 


bandy's summer 


pull like everything?” And Prue’s eyes 
were round with wonder. 

Oh ! ” said Randy, don’t you know 
that father said we wouldn’t be expected 
to believe the stories, only just enjoy them ? ” 
But the little girl looked bewildered; so, 
closing the book, Randy sought other means 
to amuse her. “ Let’s play this is a beauti- 
ful bridge, this plank we’re- sitting on, and 
this brook, a great big river,” said Randy, 
“ and we’re princesses waiting for a prince 
to come and save us — I mean rescue us,” 
she corrected. 

Again little Prue showed her lack of 
imagination. Save us from what ? ” said 
she. 

“ Oh, dragons that live in this big, roar- 
ing river.” 

It don’t roar much,” said Prue, doubt- 
fully; ‘‘but,” she added, “we can play it 
does.” 

Thus encouraged, Randy went on, giving 
her fancy full play. “ And that pretty 
green branch overhead, with sun on the 


AT TifE BROOK 


29 


leaves, that’s an arch of flowers such as the 
princess rode under in another story.” 

That was too much for Prue. But, 
Randy ! ” she exclaimed, there isn’t a 
blossom on it. If we were princesses, 
Randy, I could love you just the same, 
couldn’t I?” questioned Prue, looking up 
at her sister with eager eyes. 

“ Of course you could,” said Randy, giv- 
ing Prue a hug, who thus assured began to 
hum a little tune, swinging her legs to keep 
time with her singing. They made a pretty 
picture, Randy with her arm still about the 
little sister, Prue nestling as close as possible 
to Randy, and in the brook below a reflec- 
tion showing the two children. Randy was 
looking off as if for the coming of the 
prince, while little Prue, becoming drowsy, 
laid her head against her sister. 

Suddenly Prue started : “ S’pose that’s 
the prince ? ” said she, as a low, merry 
whistle sounded through the woods. Randy 
looked toward the opening, then her laugh 
rang out. Oh, Prue,” said she, “ it’s ’Bijah 


30 


bandy's summer 


Bowstock, the deacon’s hired man, going 
after the cows. Just look at him ! ” she 
added. And Prue looked. 

Little enough like the prince in the fairy 
book looked he ! An old straw hat upon the 
back of his head, a blue “jumper,” and a 
pair of overalls tucked into his boots, com- 
pleted his costume. He did not see Randy 
and Prue as he passed through the woods 
to a path far beyond the brook, whisking 
off the blossoms with his switch as he went 
along. 

“ His clothes wasn’t the kind the prince 
wore in the picture, was they, Randy ? ” 
said Prue, when ’Bijah was out of sight. 
“ In the picture in the fairy book they wear 
such long, long stockings way over their 
knees, and hats with feathers in them, and 
everything,” said Prue, intending thus to 
supply all the details of costume which she 
might possibly have omitted. 

Randy made no answer. Little Prue felt 
as many a grown person does, that the 
clothes made the manj but Randy, thought- 


AT THE BROOK 


31 


ful Randy, felt that, given all the fine rai- 
ment, ’Bijah never could have even looked 
the prince. 

Little Prue edged her way along the 
plank on which they sat, and at last suc- 
ceeded in slipping off from the end of the 
board down to the edge of the brook. 
There she found bits of bark which she 
freighted with moss, and then floated them 
down the tiny stream. 

The little crafts, aided by a gentle push, 
floated out into a placid little pool just 
under Randy’s feet. For an instant they 
paused, wavered, then turning about they 
flew over the miniature rapids, made there 
by three small stones below the surface, 
then sailed around a bend in the brook and 
disappeared behind a clump of brakes grow- 
ing at the foot of an alder. 

Sometimes the tiny boats foundered, and 
the passengers were tipped out into the 
stream, but little Prue found other bits of 
bark for the boats and gaily loaded them 
with moss for more passengers. 


32 


bandy's summer 


Look, Randy ! Look ! ” screamed Prue, 
^Hhere’s a fine new boat just under your 
feet. The gray moss is mens, and the moss 
with the red tops is womens. The red is 
their bonnets. Randy, Randy ! why don’t 
you hear me when I’m close to you ? ” 

Randy shook herself and sat upright, 
laughing. “ I did hear you,” she said, 
only I didn’t think to answer. I guess I 
was dreaming.” 

^^Well, don’t dream in the daytime!” 
said Prue ; “ I’ve sent lots and lots of pretty 
boats down the stream, and I kept telling 
you to look, and now I don’t believe you’ve 
seen one of them.” 

Oh, yes, I have,” said Randy, “ only I 
was so busy thinking that I didn’t say any- 
thing about them. Come, we’ll sail a few 
boats together, and then I guess we’d better 
go home.” 

Prue was delighted, and to reward Randy 
for agreeing to play with her, she hunted 
with all her might for finer pieces of bark 
and choicer bits of moss, and gay indeed 


AT THE BROOK 


33 


was the little fleet with its red-capped crew 
and passengers. Prue wandered off to find 
even finer mosses, and Randy was trying 
to capture a big water-spider for a passen- 
ger for a piece of birch bark, when Prue 
came rushing down the path, crying, “Look, 
Randy ! Look ! Here’s old Mr. Plimpkins 
to sail in one of our boats.” 

In her surprise Randy let the water-spider 
escape, and, turning about, saw Prue quite 
alone, running toward her, laughing and 
holding out something which she had in 
her hand. 

“Prue Weston! what do you mean?” 
said Randy. 

Old Mr. Plimpkins was a farmer who 
lived at the outskirts of the town, but Prue 
had seen him at church, and she thought 
him the funniest man she had ever seen. 

He was nearly as broad as he was tall. 
Winter and summer, he habitually wore 
very broad-brimmed hats, and he walked 
with a comical waddle, because his legs 
were completely bowed. As if to attract 


34 


randy's summer 


attention to these members, they were al- 
ways encased in light, snnff-colored trousers, 
while about his neck, hot weather or cold, 
was always wrapped an immense red plaid 
cotton handkerchief. 

As Prue came along, she handed out 
to Randy the object which she called 
Mr. Plimpkins, and, sure enough, clutched 
tightly in the little hot hand, was a bit 
of twig on which two stems bowed together 
until they nearly touched. On it, for a 
broad-brimmed hat, she had stuck a round 
green leaf. 

Oh, I think it must be naughty to laugh 
about him, even if he is funny,” said 
Randy. 

‘‘But doesn’t it look like him?” persisted 
Prue, “ besides, you're laughing, Randy, 
only not out loud.” 

Indeed, Randy was laughing, so, without 
attempting to reprove the little sister, she 
placed the bit of birch, which represented 
the old farmer, on the bark, and watched 
Prue as she floated it down the stream. 


AT THE BROOK 


35 


Then, turning toward home, they walked 
along the path which led to the entrance to 
the wood. 

Prue sang all the way, and, seeing her 
happiness, Randy, sweet Randy, felt re- 
warded for the afternoon given up to her 
little sister’s amusement ; but she felt that 
the reading of the fairy tales was not a 
success. Clearly, the stories were beyond 
little Prue ; for, at the supper table, when 
there was a pause in the conversation, she 
described the afternoon and Randy’s read- 
ing, much to Randy’s surprise and her 
father’s amusement. 

Oh, father!” she exclaimed, “we’ve 
been down to the brook, sailing boats, an’ 
Randy read me the beautifulest story ! The 
girl’s name was — I’ve forgotten what, but 
her hair corned down to the ground, and 
the prince dumb up on it, and ’most pulled 
her head off, and the tower was so small the 
old witch couldn’t live in it, and she cut 
her hair off, and that’s all I can think of, 
’cept the girl sang all the time, and the 


36 


bandy's summer 


prince could hear her, and we sat on the 
plank and waited for the prince to come.” 

All this she said in one breath. Her 
father laughed heartily at her manner of 
telling the story, but Mrs. Weston said, 
‘‘What on airth does the child mean?” 
while Randy decided to read the stories to 
herself, thereafter, and amuse Prue in an- 
other way. 


CHAPTER III 


RANDY AT CHURCH 

‘‘ Come, Randy, come ! It wants a quar- 
ter to ten, an’ you’d better hurry.” 

“ Yes, mother, I’m coming,” said Randy, 
pleasantly, and with redoubled energy she 
reached for the middle button of her dress 
waist, which was fastened at the back. 
This button was just too high for her left 
hand to reach up to, and almost too low for 
her right hand to reach down to, but at last 
she succeeded in crowding the refractory 
little button into its buttonhole, and, flushed 
with the struggle, she stood before the tiny 
looking-glass brushing a stray curling lock 
from her temple. The glass was a poor 
one, and Randy’s reflection appeared to be 
making a most unpleasant grimace at the 
real girl standing there. When she lifted 
37 


38 


bandy's summer 


her chin, a flaw in the glass made one eye 
appear much larger than the other, and 
when she bent her head, you would never 
have believed that the little nose in the glass 
was a reproduction of Randy’s, so singular 
was its contour. Truly, with such mirrors 
as the farm-house afforded, Randy stood 
little chance of becoming vain. 

“ Come, Randy ! ” Randy started, took 
one more look at the stiff gingham dress, 
then hastened down the stairs. At the 
door stood Mrs. Weston, impatiently wait- 
ing for her, while little Prue patted the old 
cat and told her that she “ mustn’t be lone- 
some while they were all at church.” 

Into the wagon they climbed, and away 
they started to the church. Their progress 
was slow, for the old horse was far from a 

racer ” at any time, and on Sunday Mr. 
Weston felt it to be wrong to more than 
walk the horse ; yet, even with such slow 
locomotion, they did at last reach the church, 
and the old horse was duly ensconced in the 
carriage-shed to dream away the forenoon. 


BANDY AT CHURCH 


39 


The Westons had arrived a bit early, 
and Randy amused herself surveying the 
few parishioners who had already come. 
In that country town the neighbors were 
few and far between. The Westons’ near- 
est neighbor was about a mile and a half 
distant, and so on Sundays it was quite a 
treat to see so many people. 

There were the Babson girls just a few 
pews in front of Randy. Randy thought 
Belinda Babson very pretty, mainly because 
of her fine yellow braids of straight hair. 
These braids lay down Belinda’s broad 
back, falling quite below her waist. 

Her sister Jemima’s braids were even 
thicker and longer ; but then, Randy re- 
flected, Jemima’s braids were red. 

There was Jotham Potts, whose black 
eyes always espied Randy at church or 
school, but whose regard she did not at 
all value. True, on one hot Sunday when 
Randy had found it well-nigh impossible 
to keep awake, Jotham had reached over 
the top of the pew and dropped some big 


40 


randy’s summer 


peppermints in her lap. His intention was 
good, and Randy blushed and was delighted, 
although her pleasure was partly spoiled 
by a snicker from Phoebe Small, who longed 
to win Jotham’s admiration, but thus far 
had failed to gain it. Randy had inspected 
every boy and girl in the church and was 
just watching a big blue fly that was cir- 
cling around a web in the angle of the win- 
dow, when a slight stir among the occupants 
of the other pews caused Randy to look 
around and become delighted with a sweet 
vision. With Farmer Gray and his wife 
came a number of ladies and gentlemen; 
summer boarders who were to be at the 
Gray homestead a number of weeks; but 
to Randy’s eyes, the young lady who took 
a seat next to Mrs. Gray seemed a dream 
of beauty. She wore a simple white muslin 
and a very large hat trimmed with daisies, 
but to the little country maid the city 
girl’s costume was nothing short of mag- 
nificent. 

It had always been Randy’s delight 


BANDY AT CHUBCH 


41 


when the choir arose to sing, to watch 
Miss Dobbs, the little woman who sang 
soprano, as she drew herself up to her full 
height in a vain attempt to catch a glimpse 
of the page of the hymn-book, the other 
half of which was held by Silas Barnes, 
the phenomenally tall tenor. Equally 
amusing was the tall, thin woman who 
sang “ second,” standing beside her cousin, 
John Hobson, who sang bass with all his 
might. He was short, fat, and very dark, 
and his musical efforts, which were mighty, 
caused a scowl upon his usually jovial coun- 
tenance, and a deal of perspiration as well. 

But to-day when the choir arose, Randy 
had no eyes for any one but the Grays’ 
lovely boarder, and she almost held her 
breath as she wondered if the girl would 
sing. 

The tall tenor touched his tuning fork, 
the choir sounded the chord, then choir 
and congregation joined in singing the old 
missionary hymn, “ From Greenland’s Icy 
Mountains,” and round and full rang out 


42 


fandy's summeb 


the sweet contralto voice of the tall, fair 
girl in white. 

Randy was spellbound. She had never 
admired that hymn, but to-day it sounded 
sweeter than anything she had ever heard. 
Little Prue looked at the singer with round 
eyes, and as they sat down she clutched 
Randy’s skirts and in a loud whisper said. 
Oh, Randy, do you s’pose she is the fairy 
princess ? ” 

Oh, hush ! ” said Randy, alarmed lest 
the young girl should hear the child. 

Did she hear her ? She sat in the pew 
just in front of the Westons’, and when Prue 
whispered her eager question, a faint sug- 
gestion of a smile hovered about the lovely 
mouth, and a bright twinkle glimmered 
for an instant in her beautiful eyes. 

■Just then Parson Spooner arose, gave out 
the text, and commenced one of his long ser- 
mons. He was a good man, with a kindly 
word and smile for every one, and all of his 
people were devoutly fond of him. The peo- 
ple liked him, and he always had a pleasant 


RANDY AT CHURCH 


43 


chat with every child whom he met, and 
most of them thought that he was “lots ” 
nicer on week-days than on Sundays. On 
week-days he talked with the boy whom he 
chanced to meet with his fishing-rod over 
his shoulder, and laughingly wished him 
good luck. Or, if it happened that the 
small owner of a home-made kite could 
not make it fly, the genial parson had 
been known to tie a new bob (usually a 
few weeds tied together) to the tail of the re- 
fractory kite, and off it would sail to the de- 
light of the small boy and his clerical friend. 

But on Sundays, his sermons, delivered 
in a drowsy sing-song, tried the patience of 
his small parishoners. Prue and Randy 
settled down as if for a long day of it, and 
Randy resolved that, however long the ser- 
mon might be, she would not get sleepy ; 
whereupon, she stretched her eyes to their 
fullest extent, and stared at nothing so 
persistently, that Prue became uneasy, and 
whispered, “What’s the matter, Randy? 
you look so queer I ” 


44 


randy's summer 


“Nothing,” said Randy. “I just mean 
to keep my eyes open, that’s all.” 

“They are open, just monstrous!” said 
Prue, at which Randy could not help laugh- 
ing. As the little girl was not aware that 
she had said anything that was at all 
funny, she thought Randy’s amusement 
quite out of place, and sat quietly for a few 
moments, in injured silence. 

Randy tried very hard to attend to the 
sermon, but in spite of good intentions, her 
mind wandered from Parson Spooner’s 
flushed face, as he proceeded jbo make his 
meaning clear by loud vocal efforts, and to 
enforce his meaning by many thumps of 
his fat fist upon the pulpit cushion. 

Mrs. Brimblecom sat over by the window, 
slowly waving a palmleaf fan to and fro, 
and occasionally nudging her husband, to 
keep him awake. In front of her, sat Joel 
Simpkins, his sandy hair brushed so carefully 
that not one hair was awry, and just across 
the aisle, Janie Clifton sat, in all the glory 
of a new pink calico. Janie’s black curls 


RANBY AT CHURCH 


45 


were very pretty, and she knew it ; and her 
bright, black eyes had been pointedly 
praised in an alleged poem, which had 
appeared in the county paper a few weeks 
before. It was entitled the ‘‘Black-eyed 
Coquette,” and Janie felt sure that Joel 
had written it, in which case, its boldly 
expressed flattery could have been meant 
for none other than herself. Accordingly, 
she shook her curls, and occasionally looked 
at Joel, in a manner which Randy consid- 
ered shockingly bold, and she wondered if, 
at eighteen, she could act like that. She 
decided that she could never be so bold, not 
even if the object of her admiration looked 
like a prince. 

She thought, too, that Joel was very 
ordinary ; then she looked again at the girl 
in the daisy-trimmed hat and white muslin 
gown, and fell to wondering how fine and 
handsome a prince would have to be to gain 
her favor. 

“ Probably there isn’t any one in these 
parts that would please her,” thought 


46 


bandy's summer 


Randy. ’Tisn’t only her clothes,” mused 
she, “it’s something else that makes her 
different from the folks around here.” 

All this time Prue had been unusually 
still, and Randy looked to see if she was 
asleep. The little girl was very wide 
awake, and sat staring at the large hat in 
front of her, her lips moving as if she were 
counting. Prue’s manner of counting was 
something unique, and as Randy bent her 
head to listen, she could hardly help laugh- 
ing, for this is what she heard : — 

“ One, two, four, five, two, six, ten, nine, 
two, — oh, Randy, there’s more daisies on 
her hat than I can count. Are they truly 
daisies ? If they are, why don’t they wilt ? ” 
“ Hush-sh-sh,” said Randy. “ Keep still 
and watch that big bumble bee that’s just 
come in the window.” 

“ Hear him bum,” said Prue, thus making 
Randy laugh again. She felt very wicked, 
laughing in church, and knew that her 
father would not approve; but how could 
she help laughing, for while she watched 



Prub counts the Daisies on Miss Dayton’s Hat Page 4G 







RANBT AT CHURCH 


47 


the bee, and wondered where he would fly 
next, little Prue watched him, too, all the 
time softly imitating his monotonous tune 
by saying under her breath, ‘‘bum, bum, 
bum.” 

The heat increased, and Prue looked out 
of the window at the green branches moving 
in the breeze, and longed to be out there, 
too. At last the bee tired of the church 
and flew out of the window, and just as 
Randy was thinking that she could not 
hear the heat, Parson Spooner’s sermon 
came to an end. He had become entangled 
in his own eloquence ; and seeing no way 
to extricate himself, or make his meaning 
clear, he abruptly closed his sermon and 
suggested singing the Doxology. 

After the service Mrs. Gray stopped to 
talk with Mrs. Weston, and then, to the 
mingled delight and embarrassment of Randy 
and Prue, the beautiful stranger turned, 
and, stooping, spoke to the little girl. 

“How very good you have been,” said 
she, “to sit still this long, hot morning. 


48 


BANDY SUMMED 


Do you know I had some candy in my 
pocket which I longed to share with you, 
but I didn’t like to turn quite around, as I 
should have had to, to give it to you. Let 
me give it to you now, and you and your 
sister can enjoy it during the long ride 
home. See ! ” And from a pretty chate- 
laine bag which hung from her belt, she 
took a small box of bonbons. “If I give 
you this, will you give me a kiss ? ” And 
she stooped and placed the gift in Prue’s 
eager little hands. 

For an instant the child hesitated; then 
shyly she lifted her face, and as the young 
girl stooped to take the kiss, Prue’s pudgy 
little arm went around her neck. 

Then, turning to Randy, she extended 
her hand in its dainty glove, saying, “ I 
have seen you and your sister many times 
when I have strolled past your home, and 
once, when you were standing near the tall 
clump of sunflowers, watching the bees, I 
was tempted to stop and chat with you 
awhile.” 


RANDY AT CHURCH 


49 


^^Oh, I wish you had,” said Randy, so 
eagerly, that the girl laughed merrily, say- 
ing, Well, the next time I am out for a 
walk and am going up the long hill, I will 
make you a little call.” 

Just at that moment Mrs. Weston’s 
friendly chat with her neighbor came to an 
end, and with her usual hasty manner she 
hurried the two. children out of the church 
and into the old wagon. Mr. Weston gath- 
ered up the reins, and with a loud g’lang ” 
and a few jerks, the old horse seemed to 
awaken from his forenoon’s nap in the 
carriage-shed and ambled a few steps, then 
subsided into the habitual jog. 

‘‘ Look, mother, just see what she 
gave me,” said Prue, swinging the tiny 
package of bonbons before her mother’s 
eyes. 

“What is it?” said her mother; “who 
gave it to you ? ” 

“ The princess,” said Prue, as plainly as 
she could, considering the size of the bon- 
bon which she was eating. Mrs. Weston 


50 


randy's summer 


looked puzzled, and Randy, helping herself 
to a bit of the candy, explained : — 

^‘It was that beautiful, tall girl with 
Mrs. Gray. She gave Prue the candy for 
being good and keeping still this morn- 
ing, and she’s coming to see me soon’s 
ever she takes a walk past our house, 
and isn’t she the handsomest person that 
ever lived ? ” 

“ Wal’, I don’t know as I noticed,” said 
Mrs. Weston. 

“ Why, how could you help seeing her ? ” 
said Randy, in amazement. 

“ Wal’, I s’pose I did see her, but I 
didn’t ’specially notice her, ’cept that 
she was talkin’ to you children, for Mrs. 
Gray was tellin’ me a new way to make 
cookies with two eggs instead of four, 
and I made her tell me twice so’s I’d re- 
member; two eggs is quite a savin’.” 
But this new bit of economy was lost on 
Randy. 

‘^Did Mrs. Gray tell you her name?” 
asked Randy, eagerly. 


RANDY AT CHURCH 


51 


Seems to me she said it was Da3rton, or 
something like that, but I was so took up 
with that two-egg rule for cookies that I 
didn’t notice.” So, failing to interest her 
mother, Randy subsided. 


CHAPTER IV 


pkue’s mishap 

Down the long, dusty road trudged Randy 
and Prue one hot morning on their way to 
the village store. 

At every step the dust arose like smoke, 
then settled upon their shoes, making a 
thick coating like that which whitened the 
blackberry vines growing luxuriantly over 
the wall by the roadside. 

Randy was far from pleased to be taking 
this long walk in the dust and heat. She 
had been sitting upon the rough, wooden 
seat just outside the kitchen door, reading 
the beloved fairy book, when her mother 
had stepped briskly to the doorway, calling 
her back from fairyland abruptly, saying : 
“ Come, Randy, you must go down to the 
store after some sugar. I’ve got my cook- 
62 


PRUE*S MISHAP 


53 


ies ’bout half done and my sugar’s given 
out, so you must put on your sunbonnet 
and take Prue, and go as quick as you can. 
Ye needn’t run, only don’t waste time.” 

“ Oh, mother,” said Randy, “ it’ll take me 
twice as long if I have to take Prue, she’s 
so little, and she walks so slow.” 

“I know it,” said Mrs. Weston, “but 
I’ve got lots to do while you’re gone, and I 
can’t watch her and work at the same 
time ; so you take her ’long o’ you, and I’ll 
know she’s all right.” 

Randy took her sunbonnet from its peg 
on the wall and called little Prue, who was 
playing in the sun. The child’s delight 
when told that she might go to the store 
with Randy made the elder girl regret that 
she had demurred when told that she must 
take her little sister with her. 

Prue laughed with delight, and, thrusting 
her little sunburned hand into Randy’s, 
she trudged along, scuffling her feet and 
laughing to see the dust rise in little gray 
clouds. 


54 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


At any other time Randy would have 
checked Prue, hut that day her mind was 
too much occupied with the heroine of the 
fairy tale to notice Pr lie’s movements or 
comment upon them ; but Prue was getting 
tired of walking in silence, while Randy 
indulged herself in day-dreams. 

“ Why don’t you talk, Randy ? You 
haven’t talked any since we started,” said 
Prue. 

‘‘ Oh, it’s too hot to talk,” answered 
Randy, and she once more relapsed into 
silence. 

Prue dropped Randy’s hand, and, leaving 
the road, she clambered upon the wall to 
hunt among the dusty vines for blackber- 
ries. There were more leaves than fruit, 
so the little girl, after finding a few small 
berries, walked along upon the wall until 
she came to another lot of vines, where she 
again searched for fruit. 

While Prue looked for berries Randy was 
critically inspecting her own and her little 
sister’s costume. How ugly they looked! 


pbue's mishap 


55 


The girl who, up to that time, had never 
seen any one arrayed in anything more 
beautiful than a print or gingham gown, 
varied by a long apron of blue-checked cot- 
ton, or a dark, chocolate-colored calico, now 
looked with startling dislike upon that 
style of apparel. 

“ Only think,” mused Randy, “ if we 
wore white dresses and fine shoes, and big 
hats, ’twouldn’t seem near as hot doing 
errands. Seems as though we could sit 
still in meeting if we had on different 
clothes and — why, Prue, what’s the mat- 
ter ? ” cried Randy, in answer to a doleful 
wail from the little sister. 

“ Oh, my foot, my foot ! ” screamed Prue ; 
“ it hurts drefful, and I can’t get it out.” 

Let me see,” said Randy. “ Hold still a 
minute ; I can get it out, Prue,” which, how- 
ever, proved to be easier said than done. 
While walking upon the wall the little 
foot had slipped between the stones and 
seemed firmly fixed. 

Randy worked gently and patiently, and 


66 


randy's summer 


at last the little foot was out of prison. 
Prue insisted upon having her shoe and 
stocking taken off, saying that her foot 
felt awful big,” and sure enough it had 
become a trifle swollen. Randy tried in 
every way to soothe her, assuring her that 
it was but a short walk to the store, but 
Prue wailed dismally. 

Oh, I can’t walk, Randy, my foot aches 
just dreffnl, and I can’t have any shoes on, 
’cause my foot has grown big.” 

Randy blamed herself for the mishap. 
“ I ought to have been taking care of Prue 
instead of thinking of fine clothes,” thought 
Randy. “ It ought to have been me that 
got hurt instead of little Prue. ’T would 
have served me right for being real silly, 
almost vain, I do believe.” And thus she 
berated herself. 

Poor, repentant Randy ! Careless she 
had been, but surely not wicked. She 
was utterly at a loss to know what to do. 
“Don’t you think you could walk slowly, 
Prue, if I put my hands under your arms 
to help you ? ” she asked coaxingly. 


prue's mishap 


67 


Randy, how can I walk when this foot 
is most twice as big as my other foot?” said 
Prue. 

Randy thought a moment. Then she 
said : ‘‘ There’s only one thing to do, Prue. 
You can look right down the road and see 
the store from here. You sit still where 
you are, and I’ll run and get the sugar ; it 
won’t take but a few minutes, and when I 
get back I’ll carry you home in my arms. 
You can hold the sugar and I’ll carry 
you.” 

Prue tried bravely to stop crying, and 
although she declared that her foot felt 
“worser,” she promised to be patient until 
Randy should return. The store was in 
the front part of a farm-house but a short 
distance from where the two sat upon the 
wall, and Randy rushed off down the road 
and in at the open door, in such evident 
haste that Silas Barnes looked at the girl 
in amazement. 

‘‘ In a kind of hurry, ain’t ye ? ” said he, 
as in his usual deliberate manner he weighed 
the sugar. 


58 


randy’s summer 


“Yes, oh, yes,” answered Randy, as she 
almost snatched the bundle and darted out 
of the door and ran up the road to where 
Prue sat upon the wall, a most disconsolate 
little heap, trying very hard to be brave, 
but sobbing in spite of all endeavor. 

“ Now, you carry the sugar — just think 
what a sweet bundle — and I’ll take you. 
My arms are real strong, so I believe I can 
carry you easily.” 

Prue hugged the parcel, and taking her 
little sister in her arms Randy stepped out 
bravely toward home. It seemed to her 
that she could not remember such intense 
heat as she that day experienced. They 
had taken off their sunbonnets as they 
sat upon the wall, and in their haste they 
had started for home, leaving them where 
they had dropped them, so that their heads 
were unprotected from the scorching rays 
of the sun, wliich was now directly over- 
head. 

Many times Randy was obliged to set 
Prue upon the wall, just long enough to 



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pbue's mishap 


59 


rest her aching arms ; then taking her 
again, she bravely trudged on toward 
home. 

Just as she concluded that her arms 
would surely break, she heard the sound 
of wheels behind her, and looking over 
her shoulder she saw Obadiah Gray’s old 
mare. Clover, jogging along and in the 
wagon the beautiful young girl whom 
she had so much admired at church. 

There’s that pretty girl whom I saw in 
church last Sunday,” thought Helen Day- 
ton. “ How much prettier she looks with- 
out that ugly sunbonnet. Why, she has 
her little sister in her arms, and the little 
one is crying. I’ll stop and speak to them.” 
Old Clover, always delighted to stop, came 
to a standstill, and Randy looked up shyly 
at Helen’s beautiful face. 

‘‘ Are you not tired ? ” said Miss Dayton. 

I see that you are carrying your little 
sister.” Then, as she noticed the swollen 
foot, she said : “ Oh, how did she hurt her 
foot ? Do let me take you home.” 


60 


BANDY *S SUMMER 


Randy was only too glad to accept the 
invitation so sweetly given; so Prue was 
gently lifted to a place beside Miss Dayton, 
and then Randy clambered in, not only 
thankful for the ride, but positively charmed 
to be with the lovely driver. 

‘‘ Now, tell me,” said Helen, how your 
little sister injured her foot.” So Randy 
told her the whole story, and blamed herself 
more than she deserved. If I hadn’t been 
wishing that I had a big, beautiful hat 
like ” — but here Randy stopped abruptly, 
as she noticed, for the first time, that Miss 
Dayton was wearing the very hat and dress 
which so filled her mind that morning. 

What was the hat like ? Anything 
like the one I am wearing this morning ? ” 
asked Helen, sweetly. 

Well, yes, just like it,” admitted 
Randy, blushing. 

‘‘Did you so much admire my hat?” said 
Helen. “Well, who knows but that on 
some fine day you may have one quite like 
it.” 


PRUE^S MISHAP 


61 


When, at last, they had reached Randy’s 
home, both Prue and Randy had become 
quite well acquainted with their new 
friend. 

Mr. Weston had just come in from the 
field, in answer to a blast from the dinner 
horn, and was as anxious as his wife when 
told that the children had been gone two 
hours and a half. “ I guess I’ll have to 
harness up and go down to the store and 
see if they’re — sakes alive ! Here they be 
now, with that ’stonishing pretty boarder of 
Obadiah Gray’s,” and Mr. Weston hastened 
down the walk to thank the young lady for 
her kindness. 

“I’m much ’bleeged to ye for bringing 
the children home ; mother and I was get- 
ting anxious. Randy, here, is going on 
fifteen, and pretty tall of her age, but we 
still call them the children, and Randy, 
she’s reliable ; so, when she don’t appear at 
the right time, we know that something’s 
up. Why, Prue, where’s your shoe and 
stocking ? 


62 


randy's summer 


^^Oh, father,” said Kandy, ‘^you won’t 
say I was reliable this time.” 

^‘Now, Mr. Weston,” said Helen Dayton, 
“ Randy blames herself for Prue’s injured 
foot, but she has bravely carried her little 
sister up the long hill from the store, and I 
think accuses herself too harshly.” 

Like enough,” said Randy’s father. 

Randy’s conscience is all out of proportion 
to her size.” Then, once more thanking 
Helen heartily for her kindness, he took 
little Prue into his arms saying, kindly: 
“ There, there, little daughter, I wouldn’t 
cry any more. You’re home now, and 
mother’ll know just how to fix your foot 
all right ; and, Randy, ye may have let yer 
thoughts wander, so to speak, but you 
didn’t make Prue hurt her foot, and ye’ve 
more than made up fer it all by bein’ so 
truly sorry, and tryin’ to bring her home. 
She’s a little girl, but she’s solid for a girl 
of your size to carry. ’Stead of blamin’ 
and accusin’ yourself, you just help mother 
to make Prue comfortable, and then you 


prue's mishap 


63 


amuse her with the fairy book, and, may 
be, she’ll forget how bad her foot aches.” 

I’ll do it,” said Randy, delighted to 
think that she could in any way be useful 
to her little sister, and so well did she 
amuse her that in the middle of the sixth 
fairy tale Prue was sound asleep. 

As soon as Mrs. Weston had seen the 
little foot, she had given it a bath in hot 
water, bound securely about it a hot band- 
age, and told little Prue that she must be 
quite still. 

I will, if Randy wdll read to me,” said 
Prue. So Randy read story after story, 
until the little sister was asleep. 

Randy sat beside her, intending to read 
to her again if she awoke, but Prue had 
cried with the aching foot until she was 
very tired, so she* slept soundly. Once she 
stirred, and thrust her chubby hand under 
her head, murmuring as she did so. Randy 
bent over her, to hear what she said. 

‘^The big stones squeezed my foot, so 
course it wasn’t my Randy did it,” mur- 


64 


BANDY '8 SUMMER 


mured Prue. “ My Randy wouldn’t do 
such a thing to me. My Randy’s just about 
right always and she — ” but here her voice 
faltered and that which commenced in a 
sentence ended in a sigh. A bright tear 
glistened in Randy’s gray eyes. How lov- 
ingly little Prue held her above the possi- 
bility of anything wrong. 

“ I must try hard to be as good as Prue 
thinks I am,” thought Randy, and, bending, 
she kissed the little one ever so gently so as 
not to awaken her ; “ for,” thought Randy, 
while she sleeps she doesn’t know her foot 
aches, and when she wakes I’ll read or do 
anything she wishes me to, to amuse her.” 

And Randy kept her promise. The 
injury, although not serious, was quite pain- 
ful, and Prue declared that Randy was 
’most an angel,” so patient and entertain- 
ing was she, reading the same story over 
and over again if it chanced to please her. 

In a few days Prue was able to be about, 
and Randy was every bit as happy as her 
little sister, to see that the swelling had 


pbue's mishap 


65 


disappeared and the wee foot back to its 
usual size. There was one story with which 
Prue seemed the most pleased and which she 
wished often est to hear. 

That was the story of the Sleeping 
Beauty,” but it mattered not how many 
times she heard it, she never could tell it 
straight. 

One day Prue’s mother said that the 
little girl would be wise if she rested her 
foot all the afternoon. “I’ll sit still on 
the ‘ lunge,’ ” said Prue, “ if 5^ou’ll listen to 
a be-autiful story called the ‘ Sleeping 
Beauty.’ I guess I can tell it ’most right ; 
do you want to hear it, mother?” 

Now this was a trial to Mrs. Weston’s 
patience. She had glanced hastily at a few 
pages of the fairy book and had declared it 
to be “ clear foolishness,” adding, “ if it 
amuses Randy and Prue, I do’no as I care ; 
but it puzzles me how they can enjoy it.” 

But, thinking to please her little daughter 
and make her willing to sit still, she prom- 
ised to listen attentively to Prue’s narrative. 


66 


bandy’s summer 


adding under her breath, I guess I can 
stand it for once, if it is foolish.” So she 
handed the book to Prue, who declared that, 
although she couldn’t read, she could tell 
the story better by looking at the pictures. 

Mrs. Weston brought her sewing to the 
window nearest the lounge where Prue sat 
as if enthroned, and the youthful enter- 
tainer commenced at once to tell the story 
as she remembered it. As Randy after- 
ward said with stifled laughter, If that is 
the best Prue could tell the story with the 
pictures to help her, how much more could 
she have twisted it without the book ? ” 
Once upon a time (they all commence 
that way),” said Prue, “there was a little 
girl so be-autiful that folks ’most went 
crazy who saw her, an’ her father was 
tickled to see how handsome she was when 
she was a baby; an’ one time when she 
was fifteen (that’s what Randy is) — no, I 
forgot, when the baby, that’s the princess, 
you know, was a bein’ chris-chris-chris- 
tened, there was a lot of fairies that bringed 


prue's mishap 


67 


her presents, and one was mad because she 
didn’t be invited, and she did somelhing 
awful, but I’ve forgot w^hat. 

Then the beautiful princess went to 
sleep a hun-dred years” (here Prue’s eyes 
grew round with excitement), “and she 
grew older and older every minute — no, 
no, she didn’t. I mean she didn’t grow 
older a’ tall.” 

Here Randy turned hastily to gaze out 
of the window, and Prue, fortunately, failed 
to notice her sister’s very evident effort to 
conceal her amusement. 

“ Then everybody in the house — no, pal- 
ace — went sound asleep and snored, and 
they never waked up ’til the prince kissed 
them — oh, no, he only kissed the princess. 
Mother, why do you s’pose he didn’t kiss 
anybody but the princess ? Shouldn’t you 
a thought he would?” 

Without waiting for an answer, however, 
Prue babbled on. 

“ They was married and lived happy ever 
after, and all the folks waked up, and the 


68 


RANDY* S SUMMER 


horses, and cows, and cats, and dogs, all 
wagged their tails ’cause they was awake 
too. Isn’t that a wonderful story?” 

“I should say it was,” ejaculated prac- 
tical Mrs. Weston. “Nothing less than 
wonderful.” 

Mrs. Weston folded the garment which 
she had been mending, and saying, kindly, 
“ That was a long story for a little girl to 
try to tell,” she went out to the kitchen to 
make preparation for tea, leaving Prue still 
looking at the pictures in the fairy book. 
Randy stole out to the kitchen. 

“ Oh, mother,” she said, looking up wist- 
fully, “ I know you think it funny that I 
can like fairy stories almost as well as Prue 
does ; but, truly, Prue does not tell them 
straight. They’re not true, of course, but 
they do sound pretty when you read them 
straight through instead of ‘ mixed up ’ as 
she gets them.” 

“I know, of course,” said her mother, 
“ that Prue has a funny way of telling any- 
thing. If you enjoy the stories, I’m sure I 


pbue's mishap 


69 


don’t care, only don’t ask me to read them. 
I want to read something that’s somewhat 
probable,” and Randy was obliged to be 
satisfied with that. 

Mrs. Weston’s mind was utterly void of 
imagination, and to read to her of magic 
locks, of sleep which, lasting a hundred 
years, left the sleeper youthful and beau- 
tiful, of wild wishes granted, of people 
turned to stone, and back to life again, 
simply tried her patience and amused her 
not at all. 


CHAPTER V 


HELEN Dayton’s call 

The sun shone in at the kitchen window 
and made a golden panel on the floor. 

Looks like another hot day,” said Mrs. 
Weston, and she paused a moment and 
looked out at the meadow, where the little 
brook sparkled in the sun. 

“ Mother, are we very poor ? ” said Randy, 
irrelevantly. 

Mrs. Weston wheeled around abruptly in 
her surprise, and promptly dropped the 
dishcloth which she held in her hand. 
“ There,” said she, look at that dishcloth ; 
somebody’s cornin’ sure as preachin’. I 
never knew it to fail.” 

“ Oh, I do hope somebody will, if it’s Miss 
Dayton, if that’s her name,” added Randy. 

But you didn’t answer what I asked you,” 
said the girl. “ Are we, mother ? ” 

70 


HELEN DAYTON'S CALL 71 

^^Why, Randy, what’s in your mind? 
Lately you’ve been dreamin’ most of the 
time, and askin’ queer questions between 
times. Are we what? Poor? Why no, 
I do’no’s we be. Your father ain’t a rich 
man, but he’s well-to-do. What put it in 
your head to ask me ? ” 

“Nothing,” said Randy, “only I was 
wondering what the reason was that all 
the folks in church yesterday looked so 
different from Mrs. Gray’s boarders. Was 
it because they were poorer or was it some 
other reason ? ” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, as she took 
the towel from Randy’s listless hands, and 
commenced energetically to finish wiping 
the dishes, “ I guess we’re as well fixed as 
any one around here ; your father owes 
nobody nothin’, and our farm’s one of the 
biggest and best in the town. I’ve heard 
say that some city folks was rich, an’ I 
heard tell of other city folks as wasn’t 
so well off as their clothes seemed to make 
them out; and as to our lookin’ different, 


72 


bandy's summer 


there ain’t any call to dress up any more 
than what we do now. I tell you what, 
Randy, to be clean and neat ought to 
satisfy any one.” 

To this Randy could not agree, so she 
wisely said nothing. In her inmost heart 
she knew that, were she the possessor of 
an immense hat loaded with flowers, she 
would not have the courage to walk into 
church, the cynosure of all eyes. On the 
other hand, a sunbonnet never had looked 
so uncouth and unbecoming as now. 

The dishes put away, the chickens fed, 
and a dozen other little chores attended to, 
Randy was free to do as she liked ; so off 
to the “best” room she flew, eager to 
brighten it in any way which might 
suggest itself. The best room was a front 
room, and the front door, although seldom 
used, opened from it, showing a little gar- 
den in which grew boys’ love, larkspur, 
balsams, and, later in the season, marigolds. 

But the front room and the front door 
were never used ; and the little path from 


HELEN DAYTON'S CALL 73 

the door-stone to the flower beds was 
overgrown with weeds, years ago. The 
side door which led to the barn, the well, 
and the wood-pile was the proper one to 
use. So Randy did not open the door; it 
never occurred to her to do so; but she 
drew up the green paper curtains and let 
in the sunlight, and, although the room 
was scrupulously clean, she decided that 
the correct thing to do first was to dust. 

Between the front windows stood a little 
table with an oil-cloth cover, dotted with 
red and green figures. Over the table, and 
quite too high for any one to take a peep, 
hung a small, square looking-glass with a 
broad, wooden frame. 

Randy remembered having seen a huge 
asparagus plume over a mirror in the par- 
son’s sitting room on one gala occasion 
when the sewing-circle had met there, and 
she had been permitted to be present with 
her mother. Asparagus, then, would be 
quite the thing with which to decorate 
the glass. The parson’s mirror had a gilt 


74 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


frame and a gorgeous landscape above the 
glass, and Randy felt sure that the wooden 
frame needed the decoration even more than 
the gilt one. The asparagus in place, Randy 
stopped in the middle of the floor, duster in 
hand, to view the effect. Her eyes wan- 
dered about the room, and this is what she 
saw. 

On the opposite wall was a picture en- 
titled “ The Tree of Life,” on which every 
known virtue hung pendant from the 
branches on one side, while every evil of 
which man is guilty kept the balance on 
the other. 

This picture always served to depress 
Randy. The tree was a sombre green, 
and Randy espied Envy printed in large 
type on that side where hung the sins, 
and she felt sure that a wee bit of envy 
had crept into her heart on Sunday, and as 
she looked at the pictured tree she said, 
under her breath : “ Must have been vanity 
that made me almost hate my sunbonnet. 
The parson preached a while ago on the 
sin of vanity.” 


HELEN LAYTON'S CALL 75 

Poor Randy ! To think it a sin to long 
with all her girlish heart for pretty things ! 
With a sigh she turned from the picture of 
the tree to the one hanging upon the side 
wall. This was more cheerful — an an- 
cient fashion plate in which insipid-look- 
ing gentlemen, in white trousers and long, 
blue coats, were smiling at some waxen- 
faced ladies whose beruffled skirts were 
voluminously extended. 

She rather admired this picture, mainly 
because the people in it, at least, looked 
cheerful. Leaving the pictures, Randy let 
her eyes slowly wander over the furnish- 
ings. As none of- her neighbors or acquaint- 
ances had carpets, the yellow painted floor 
seemed quite fine. The chairs were also 
yellow, and as a crowning luxury, a green 
enamelled cloth lounge stood in all its slip- 
pery grandeur against the wall, beside the 
door. 

Randy liked the lounge, but wished it pos- 
sible to sit upon it without slipping. While 
she was wishing that she had some pretty 


76 


BANDY'S SUMMED 


thing in the shape of an ornament for the 
table, her eyes wandered to the window, 
where, looking out into the garden, she 
could see the tall spikes of pink and blue 
larkspur waving in the breeze. A bright 
idea ! Why not have some flowers upon 
the table ? 

Away she ran to the kitchen closet, and 
there she inspected everything on the shelves, 
so anxious was she to find something fine 
for her flowers. 

“ Oh, that’s the thing,” said Randy, ‘J if 
mother’ll let me have it.” Appealed to, 
Mrs. Weston looked doubtful. “ ’Tain’t a 
vase,” said she, “ it’s my old white and blue 
spoon holder, an’ I do’ no how it will look in 
the best room.” 

“But you’d be willing I should use it, 
wouldn’t you ? ” Randy asked eagerly. 

“ Oh, I don’t mind your usin’ it ; go put 
your posies in it an’ see how it looks.” 

Surprised and delighted that her mother 
should express the least interest, Randy 
skipped out into the garden and came run- 


HELEN DAYTON'S CALL 77 

ning back in a few moments with a dozen 
long stalks of larkspur in her hands. She 
filled the old spoon holder with water and 
crowded in the flowers, then away she ran 
to the best room. 

‘‘ Oh, mother,” she called, a minute later, 

do come and see the room.” Mrs. Weston 
stopped in the doorway. 

‘‘Wal’, I do declare,” she ejaculated, 
must say that does look pretty. Why, 
Randy, you do have a real knack to fix it 
up^so. Them flowers brighten up the place 
wonderful, and that sparrowgrass just beats 
an3rthing.” 

‘‘Oh, I’m so glad you like it, mother! 
Would you put some on the mantel if you 
were me?” 

“ I’d put some anywhere,” said her 
mother, wiping her eyes with the corner of 
her apron. “I declare I’d actually forgot- 
ten how much the blossoms cheer up the 
house. I used to bring them in when I 
was first married, but ever sence I’ve been 
too busy to think of anything but cookin’, 


78 


bandy' 8 SUMMER 


sweepin’, sewin’, and mendin’ from Monday 
’til Saturday ; but, Randy, if you’re a mind 
to, you may bring in a few blossoms once 
in a while. It seems like the time when I 
used to fix up the house, and myself too, 
for that matter.” 

Mrs. Weston was a reserved woman, and 
Randy was amazed that her mother should 
show so much feeling, and delighted that 
her efforts at decoration were approved. 

“ I wish I had something to hang down 
from the mantel in some way. I don’t 
know how 'to say it, but I know just how 
it ought to look.” A moment Randy stood 
thinking with a queer little scowl over her 
eyes. Then her face brightened, and out 
of the room she darted, then across the 
yard to the old well around whose sides the 
wild morning glory clambered. Lifting her 
skirt, she filled it with the long vines and 
hurried back to the house. 

She filled a small stone jar with water, 
carried it to the front room and stood it in 
the centre of the mantel, and then proceeded 


HELEN DAYTON'S CALL 


79 


to fill it with long sprays of the morning 
glor}\ When all the vines were thus dis- 
posed of, she inspected her work. 

“ There, you couldn’t have done better,” 
said her mother, and Randy felt rewarded 
for her efforts. Then they turned to go 
back to the kitchen, and there, in the door- 
way, stood Helen Dayton. Randy started. 

« Forgive me for startling you, and also 
for coming in without knocking. I was 
out for a walk, and coming up the hill I 
thought of your invitation. I walked 
toward the house and was about to knock 
when this little puss offered to lead me 
through the house to you.” 

“ I’m sure you’re welcome any time. Miss 
Dayton, and this girl of mine,” laying her 
hand on Randy’s arm, “ has been so eager 
to see you again I do’no what would have 
become of her if you had waited long to 
come.” 

Randy blushed, and Helen Dayton laughed 
and said that she was very glad to be so 
welcome. Then she chatted pleasantly 


80 


BANDY '8 SUMMER 


with Mrs. Weston ‘‘just as if she had 
always known her,” as Randy afterward 
said. 

While she was talking, a little book which 
lay upon Miss Dayton’s lap fell to the floor 
and flew open, showing a page of bright 
little sketches, and Randy and Prue stared 
at it in wonder. “ My sketch book,” said 
Miss Dayton. “ I am not an artist, but I 
have a bit of talent and have studied a 
little, and when I go out for a walk I jot 
down a part of a birch tree, a few wild 
flowers, or some tall weeds beside an old 
wall. Take the book and look at it if you 
like,” she added, as she caught the eager 
look upon Randy’s face. 

Gladly Randy picked up the little book. 
The drawings were not , wonderful, only 
rather clever, but to the country girl, who 
had never seen a sketch, they were truly 
charming. Randy looked at each little 
picture at least a dozen times, always tell- 
ing Prue in a whisper that she must not 
put her little fingers on them. 


HELEN DAYTON’S CALL 


81 


‘‘However did you do them?” asked 
Randy. “ I didn’t know that anybody 
ever did such beautiful things.” 

“ Thank you for liking them,” said Helen ; 
“ but you must not call them beautiful.” 

“ But,” said Randy, “ that old mullein 
stalk looks just like a mullein, and those 
birches look just ’s if you could strip the 
bark off.” 

Helen laughed at Randy’s enthusiasm. 
“Sometime, when I come,” said she, “I 
will make a sketch of your old well.” 

“ Our well ! ” said Randy, “ would that 
look pretty in a picture?” Helen was 
amused. “You shall see,” said she ; “ and 
now tell me who arranged the flowers and 
vines so prettily?” 

“ I did,” said Randy ; “ I did it to please 
you,” and Randy, the sketch book still in 
her hand, looked up into the lovely face. 

Helen Dayton laid a gentle hand on 
Randy’s shoulder, saying sweetly, “ Thank 
you so much, but tell me why you so 
wished to please me ? ” 


82 


bandy's summer 


Because you are the very loveliest girl 
I ever saw in this world,” and then Randy 
blushed and looked down to cover her con- 
fusion. 

And because you are the princess,” 
chimed in Prue, who had been still an 
unusually long time. 

“ The princess ! ” echoed Helen. ‘‘ What- 
ever do you mean, dear ? I am not a 
princess,” and Randy hastened to explain. 
She told all about the fairy book, and how 
on Sunday in church little Prue had felt 
sure that Miss Dayton was the princess of 
the fairy tales. 

“ Well, of all things ! ” said Helen ; ‘‘ now 
I must assure you, little one, that I am not 
a princess, only Helen Dayton of Boston.” 

“ But you look like one,” persisted the 
child, looking at her with round, admiring 
eyes. Mrs. Weston had slipped from the 
room, while the children entertained their 
visitor, and as she bustled about the 
kitchen, doing many things, she murmured 
softly to herself, ‘‘Randy’s right, the girl 
is lovely.” 


HELEN DAYTON'S CALL 


83 


A pretty picture they made — the young 
girl and the two children — as they sat in 
the best room, chatting now like old 
acquaintances. Helen had taken little 
Prue upon her lap, where she sat looking 
admiringly up into that young lady’s face, 
while Randy sat beside her on the floor, 
telling her all her small confidences. 

“ Randy’s such a homely name,” she was 
saying. ^^’Tain’t so bad as Jerushy, but 
it’s homely enough.” 

^‘But that isn’t the whole name, is it? 
Isn’t it ^Miranda’ ?” asked Helen. 

“Why, yes,” said Randy, “and it sounds 
almost fine when you say it; but, gener- 
ally, it’s just Randy. And there’s Prue. 
Her name is Prudence, after Aunt Pru- 
dence.” 

“ Who’s just horrid,” said Prue, so ve- 
hemently that Helen and Randy laughed.' 
After a pause Randy asked, abruptly, “ If 
you belong in Boston, how could you come 
here to board; Boston’s a city, my geog- 
raphy says so, and this is just country.” 


84 


bandy" S SUMMER 


“ That is just why I came here,” said 
Helen. “ The spring found me very tired, 
after a long, gay winter, and I came here 
to be quiet, and get rested.” 

How funny ! ” said Randy. “ I was 
wishing and wishing the other day that 
it wasn’t always so quiet here, and the 
other night when father was talking to 
Jason Meade about buying the big piece 
of meadow land, Mr. Meade was saying 
that he was going to Boston for a spell 
— he’s been there once — and he told about 
the streets full of people, and cars running 
all day, and teams and ever3d,hing; and 
I did wish things would fly around here 
awhile.” 

Randy paused for breath, and looking at 
the pretty, eager face, Helen stooped, and 
touching the curly head ever so lightly 
with her lips she said, “Dear Randy, I’ll 
try to stir things up a bit, and we will see 
if we cannot have some pleasant times 
while I am here.” 

“Oh, will you?” said Randy, eagerly. 


HELEN DAYTON'S CALL 


85 


I never went anywhere ’cept to a sewing- 
circle once.” 

“ What will you do?” asked Prue. 

“ Oh, you shall see,” said Helen, laugh- 
ingly. “We are planning a picnic now,” 
said she, “and if we really have it, Fll 
invite you, and you shall go with me.” 

“ With you ! ” said Randy. “ I’d love to, 
but I shouldn’t look fit,” and she looked 
admiringly at Helen Dayton’s dainty outing 
suit, and glanced up at the trim sailor hat 
perched upon her pretty head. 

“ Oh, you will look every bit fine enough 
with a shade hat — we shall all wear broad- 
brimmed hats — and a clean gingham dress,” 
said Helen, cheerily. 

“ But I’ve got nothing but sunbonnets,” 
said Randy, “ ’less father will buy me one 
next time he takes eggs and vegetables to 
the village. I mean to ask him to if that 
would be soon enough,” and she looked up 
eagerly at Helen. 

“ Oh, yes, indeed,” said Helen, “ we’ve 
planned to have it in about two weeks.” 


86 


randy's summer 


I want to go, too,” said little Prue. 

“ Of course, dear, so you shall,” said 
Helen, “ and now I must be going, but I’ll 
tell you all about the picnic the next time 
we meet. Do you know where Mrs. Gray 
lives, Randy ? ” 

Randy laughed. “ Of course I do,” said 
she. 

‘‘Well, when father brings home your 
new shade hat, and of course he will, if 3^011 
wish it so much, suppose you take a walk 
over to Mrs. Gray’s and make a little call 
upon me, and when you come bring the 
new hat with you ; I shouldn’t wonder if I 
had something with which to trim it.” 

“ Oh, I will, I will ! ” said Randy, 
eagerly, “and then you’ll tell me all 
about the picnic.” 

With sheer excitement little Prue was exe- 
cuting a funny little jig, which reminded 
Helen to inquire for the injured foot. 

“ It’s all well. See ! ” and Prue hopped 
upon that one foot to assure her that it was 
quite itself again. 


HELEN DAYTON'S CALL 87 

“ I should call that foot very well in- 
deed,” said Helen. Then together they 
walked out to the kitchen where, bidding 
good morning to Mrs. Weston, Helen said 
that she had enjoyed her call, admired 
Randy’s tasteful decoration, and asked if 
she might borrow Randy once in a while. 

“ Why, yes, you may have Randy when- 
ever I can spare her,” said Mrs. Weston, 
“ ’though she seems so took up with you, 
and so delighted, that when she comes 
home from a call on you I’m afraid she’ll 
about tread on air.” 

Helen laughed, and taking Randy’s hand 
they walked together as far as the road where 
Randy, perched upon the wall, watched her 
new friend out of sight. 

Helen turned many times to wave her 
hand until a bend in the road hid her from 
view. .Then Randy walked slowly to the 
house, followed by Prue, and as they walked 
they talked of nothing but Helen’s beauty 
and sweetness and the wonderful picnic. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE PICNIC 

Mr. Weston had gone to market two 
days after Helen Dayton’s call upon Randy. 
He had laughed heartily at the description 
of the exact kind of shade hat which Randy 
wished for, and as he drove off he continued 
to laugh as Mrs. Weston called after him, 
“ Remember, she wants a white hat ; don’t, 
for mercy’s sake, come home with a brown 
one.” 

And, father,” shrieked Randy, “ remem- 
ber to get a big one and one that isn’t too 
coarse.” 

Yes, yes, land sakes! I h’lieve I’ll bring 
ye home a dozen to pick from,” and the 
good man chuckled to himself — he had 
his own plan for doing Randy’s errand. 
His eggs and vegetables disposed of, he 


THE PICNIC 


89 


turned to start for home, when he ejacu- 
lated, “ Bless me ! if I didn’t most forgit 
Randy’s hat.” Back into the store he 
went. “ What have ye got for hats ? ” 
said Mr. Weston. “ My Randy’s set her 
mind on havin’ a fine shade hat for the 
picnic, and nothin’ but a white one will 
do.” 

Silas Barnes reached under his counter 
and brought forth a dozen straw hats, 
which he spread out for Mr. Weston to 
select from. 

“ Wal’, that beats all ! Randy and her 
mother told me just how it ought to look, 
but I don’t see any difference in ’em, do 
you, Barnes?” 

Why, yes,” replied the genial store- 
keeper, ‘‘that one’s twice as fine as the 
other, an’ it’s worth twice as much.” 

“ Wal’, I guess it’s ’bout good enough 
for Randy, then, and I’ll take it.” 

When her father returned that night 
Randy met him at the door, and with a 
little cry of delight took the parcel which 


90 


RANDY \S SUMMER 


he handed her, and she could not find 
words to express her pleasure when the 
fresh, white hat lay before her on the 
table. 

“ Dear me ! Ye might have had one 
before, if it delights ye so,” said her 
mother; I didn’t think of it before, 
because most every girl here wears a 
sunbonnet.” 

Well, I’ve got it now,” said Randy, 
“ and to-morrow I’ll go over to Miss Day- 
ton’s and she’ll trim it for me; she said 
she would.” On the following day, true 
to her promise, Helen gave Randy a cor- 
dial welcome, and trimmed the hat with 
some gay ribbons which, although not 
new, were very pretty, and to Randy 
seemed nothing short of gorgeous. 

On the day of the picnic no happier 
heart than Randy Weston’s beat fast with 
anticipation ; and with Prue’s hand held 
tightly in her own she started, as they 
had planned, for Mrs. Gray’s house to join 
Helen. 


THE PICNIC 


91 


Don’t forget to take care of Prue,” 
called her mother. 

“ I won’t forget,” answered Randy. 

Mr. Weston stepped back into the house 
after watching the children until a bend 
in the road concealed them from \’iew, 
and sat down for a moment before going 
out to the field. “I tell ye what, mother,” 
said he, I mean those girls shall have a 
chance. I’d no idee what a difference 
there was between a hat and a sunbun- 
nit. I say, why don’t you have a new 
bunnit yourself, mother ? You were every 
bit as pretty as our Randy when you were 
young, and I b’lieve you’d look a good deal 
the same now, with a little fixin’. Just see 
the difference in Randy with a bran’ new 
hat ! When we was a-payin’ off the mort- 
gage we had to scrimp ; but now, I think 
ye might have a few duds, once in a while.” 

He stopped, expecting a rebuff, and was 
surprised when his wife turned with a 
sweet smile and said, “ I b’lieve I will 
have just a few things.” 


92 


RANDY’S SUMMER 


Ye can have what ye want,” was the 
hearty rejoinder, and we’ll go to the vil- 
lage next week and do some shoppin’, ” 
and with a jolly whistle he started for the 
barn. 

When they arrived at Mrs. Gray’s, the 
children were surprised to find almost every 
man, woman, and child who had been in- 
vited to the picnic already there, and, as 
they were all talking at once, it was impos- 
sible to understand what any one person 
was saying. 

Very conscious of her new hat was 
Randy, and she longed to find Helen that 
she might talk with her. She knew that 
any one with whom she stopped to speak 
would mention her new finery, so she only 
nodded pleasantly to the girls whom she 
passed, and walked toward the house, hop- 
ing there to find Helen. Helen saw her 
and came out to meet her ; but as Randy 
passed the Babson girls, she heard Phoebe 
Small say to them : Look at Randy 
Weston ! Isn’t she getting fine ! ” 


THE PICNIC 


93 


Dunno how fine she is,” responded Be- 
linda Babson ; “ but I don’t see as she need 
walk right by us, just because she’s got a 
new hat.” 

Poor Randy ! She had not the least idea 
of being vain or silly. “ Why need the 
girls spoil the fun of my having a new hat,” 
said she, and a hot flush crept up on her 
cheek, but soon Helen’s merry chatter 
caused Randy to forget Phoebe’s unkind- 
ness, and she was laughing and talking as 
gayly as Helen herself. 

Miss Dobbs, the little soprano of the 
choir, hearing Randy’s laugh, turned and 
smiled, an unusual thing for her to do, say- 
ing : “ How are ye, Randy? That’s a dread- 
ful pretty hat.” 

I like it,” said Randy, simply, although 
her eyes showed her delight that some one 
should approve of it. Miss Dayton 
trimmed it for me ; didn’t she do it lovely ?” 
continued Randy, anxious that her new 
friend should have all the glory which be- 
longed to her for her millinery skill. 


94 


BANDY'S SUMMER 


“Umph!” ejaculated Miss Dobbs, ^Hhey 
do say you’re pretty int’mit with Miss Day- 
ton, considering she’s from the city.” 
Randy moved away, pleased with the com- 
pliment for her hat, but hurt by the last 
remark. ‘ Considering she’s from the 
city,’ ” thought Randy. “ Anybody’d think 
I asked her to be pleasant to me. Why, I 
wouldn’t have dared to. She wanted to be 
nice, and I was glad enough to let her,” and 
she brushed away a tear and forced back a 
sob which rose in her throat. 

Just then something happened to cheer 
Randy and give her a wee bit of triumph. 

Phoebe Small moved toward Randy and 
fastening her small eyes disapprovingly 
upon the offending hat, she was about to 
speak, when, without noticing Phoebe at all, 
Jotham Potts walked awkwardly up to 
Randy, and, standing upon one foot, then 
shifting to the other, he said : Morning, 
Randy ! Be you going to walk to the pic- 
nic or ride ? Because,” he continued, I 
told father I’d like to have you ride with us. 


THE PICNIC 


95 


seein’s we have a spare seat, and he said 
he’d be pleased to have your company. 
Will ye come, Randy ? I do wish ye 
would.” 

“ I’d like to, and thank you,” answered 
Randy, sweetly, with a blush and a glance 
at Phoebe Small, who pretended not to have 
heard, ‘‘ but I promised to go in Mr. Gray’s 
team with* Miss Dayton, so I’ll have to.” 

‘‘I wish ye was goin’ with us, but as 
ye can’t. I’ll see ye at the picnic,” said 
Jotham, and he turned to get into his 
father’s wagon; then, stepping back to 
where Randy was standing, he blushed, and 
from his pocket produced a little package. 

“ Here, Randy,” he said, I brought this . 
a purpose for you to enjoy durin’ the ride, 
so I guess I’ll give it to ye now.” 

Oh, thank you,” said Randy, “ how 
good you are,” and that so completely over- 
came Jotham that he retired in confusion. 
By this time the party was about ready to 
start. The choir had decided to go in the 
first wagon and enliven the way by singing. 


96 


bandy' 8 SUMMER 


and were still discussing as to a selection 
from their scant repertoire. 

“Ye needn’t ask me to join ye,” said 
Silas Barnes, “and sing ‘Chany,’” — he 
meant China — “for I don’t think that’s 
gay enough for a picnic.” 

Miss Hobson suggested that they might 
please Mr. Barnes by singing “Yankee 
Doodle.” This was meant to suggest that 
Silas Barnes was too frivolous, hut he did 
not, apparently, feel injured, as he laugh- 
ingly answered that he would “ rather be 
patriotic than mournful, and he reely 
guessed they’d better settle upon ‘ Yankee 
Doodle,’ as Miss Hobson suggested.” 

On one end of the door-stone old Mrs. 
Perkins had just convinced her neighbor, 
Mrs. Johnson, that it was just the right time 
of the year to gather ‘pennyroyal’ and 
mouse-ear, and so have them a-drying, and 
Mrs. BufEum had gathered the six little 
BufEums under her wing by uttering this 
awful threat : — 

“Johnny! Johnny Buffum ! do you and 


THE PICNIC 


97 


Hitty want to go to the picnic ? Katie ! 
do you and Jack and Sophy and Ann want 
to stay at home? Well, then, come here, 
or the first thing you’ll know the wagons’ll 
go without ye ! ” 

From all directions the six young Buf- 
fums rushed and crowded closely around 
their mother. Stay at home from their 
first picnic ? Never ! 

At last every one had arrived, and they 
lost no time in clambering into the wait- 
ing wagons ; then away they jogged 
toward the grove. 

Farmer Gray had taken his wife and 
Helen Dayton, Randy and little Prue in 
one wagon, and had told his other boarders 
that they were welcome to fill his two 
remaining wagons, allotting places as they 
chose. 

The wagon with the choir had started 
first, and Randy and Helen could still 
faintly hear the stirring strains of “Yan- 
kee Doodle.” Randy sat with sparkling 
eyes, enjoying the ride as she had never 


98 


bandy's summer 


enjoyed one before. Had she not a fine 
new hat ? Was she not beside the beauti- 
ful Miss Dayton ? and had not Jotham, to 
the envy of the other girls, given her a 
package purchased expressly for her ? 

What you got in your bundle what 
Jotham gave you, Randy?” asked Prue. 

Will you let me see ? ” 

“ Yes, do let us see,” said Helen Dayton ; 

I know it must be something nice.” 

So Randy untied the package and found 
a lot of huge pink and white peppermints, 
which Prue at once commenced to help 
her eat. Helen pronounced them to be 
very nice, but as she never liked pepper- 
mints, politely excused herself from eating 
them by saying that she must save her 
appetite for the spread at the picnic. 

Along the dusty road they jogged, Randy 
never minding the heat, Helen feeling it 
intensely, even with the protection of her 
dainty rufiled parasol. Sometimes they 
rode under overhanging boughs which 
made long, cool shadows across the road. 



On thk Way to the Picnic 


, 


Page 1)8 






THE PICNIC 


99 


then over a sunny, dusty stretch with only 
a fringe of daisies by the roadside and a 
chain of hazy blue hills in the distance. 

The occupants of one wagon would chat 
merrily with those in the wagon behind 
them ; and so, with sunny and shady roads, 
with laughter and song, they at last reached 
the grove. 

The horses were unharnessed and teth- 
ered with a rope long enough to permit 
them to graze. The baskets of lunch were 
all placed in one large wagon which stood 
in the shade of a huge tree. Then intimate 
friends and neighbors formed little groups 
and sat under the trees and chatted to- 
gether, delighted to have this little outing. 
The children played hide-and-seek behind 
the tree trunks, and those farmers who had 
left their work to enjoy the holiday talked 
over their crops, their cattle, and the price of 
produce when disposed of at the village store. 

The Babson girls were each trying in an 
awkward fashion to win favor in the eyes 
of Reuben Jenks, who Phoebe Small de- 




100 


bandy's summer 


dared “ had a hull basketful of maple 
sugar stored away under the seat of his 
father’s wagon.” 

When Reuben had spoken of the picnic 
his mother, who was, to express it mildly, 
a frugal woman, had said that she, for one, 
didn’t approve of picnics. “ Folks eat four 
times as much at a picnic as they do at 
home, and ain’t no better satisfied,” she 
declared; but after much urging she con- 
sented to go, saying: lot of maple 

sugar’ll be all I’ll take. Sweets take 
away folks’ appetites, and folks that eat 
my maple sugar won’t want much else.” 

But try as they would, neither Belinda’s 
nor Jemima’s blandishments brought for- 
ward any of the desired sugar. Now Reu- 
ben liked the girls well enough, and his 
boyish vanity was pleased by their evident 
liking for his society. He was a generous 
little fellow and would gladly have treated 
his friends, but his mother’s eyes were upon 
him, and he said afterward, he ‘‘just didn’t 
dare.” 


THE PICNIC 


101 


Jotham Potts, hearing Helen say that 
she liked water cresses, gallantly offered 
to go and find some, assuring her that he 
knew just where they grew. 

Helen, Randy, and Prue sat under a 
large tree, and Helen promised, since 
Randy was so charmed with fairy tales, 
to tell some which she knew they had 
never heard. She told them tales from 
Grimm’s wonderful book, pleasantly an- 
swering Prue’s funny questions regarding 
them. When she related the story of the 
‘‘ Gold Children,” little Prue’s eyes dilated 
with wonder. 

It’s just beautiful,” said Randy. 

“ If they were clear, solid gold how could 
they move or stir ? ” asked Prue. 

Helen laughed, and patted the little girl’s 
cheek as she said : “ Dear little girl, you 
mustn’t ask questions which have no an- 
swers. Remember the fairy tales are not 
true, only amusing.” 

Having told story after story, Helen 
became a bit weary, and she proposed that 


102 


bandy's summer 


the children should gather a few flowers, 
saying that she would twine them into a 
lovely wreath for Prue’s curly head. 

Off went the children to search for the 
flnest blossoms to heap in Helen’s lap. 
Soon little Prue hastened back with three 
large daisies and a buttercup, asking if they 
were quite enough to make a wreath. 
“ No, indeed,” said Helen, I must have 
ever so many more.” 

Away ran Prue, shouting to the children, 
‘^Miss Dayton says it takes a nawful lot 
more.” Soon other children came running 
to Helen with little hands full of buttercups 
and daisies, until she cried, “ Enough, more 
than enough !” and commenced the weaving 
of the wreath. 

The children watched her dainty fingers, 
as with airy grace they fashioned it, and 
when she twined the ends of the garland to- 
gether, and placed the finished wreath upon 
Prue’s head, their delight knew no bounds. 

Oh, Miss Dayton, you can do anything, 
can’t you?” said Belinda Babson. 


THE PICNIC 


103 


“ Oh, no, indeed ! ” said Helen, “ there 
are many, many things which I cannot do?’ 

Then they spread the table-cloth upon 
the grass, and “ put the picnic on it,” as Prue 
said. Prue’s idea of a picnic was a lunch 
out of doors, and until the luncheon made 
its appearance, she felt that the picnic had 
not even commenced. Then suddenly clap- 
ping her chubby hands, and dancing in a 
manner which threatened to dislodge her 
flower crown, she said, ‘‘May I wear this 
wreath while I eat my lunch ? ” 

“ Oh, do,” said Helen, “ it is really very 
becoming.” 

Every one seemed anxious that Helen 
should sit as guest of honor at the spread, 
so, with children on either side, she took 
her place, and deftly put each one present 
at ease with her bright, pleasant conversa- 
tion ; now saying a kind word to old Mrs. 
Dewing, that she might not feel neglected, or 
laughing lightly at Farmer Morse’s clumsy 
wit, noticing Randy’s gentle manner with 
her little sister, and at the same time, with 


104 


randy's summer 


ready tact, seeming unmindful of the prac- 
tised hand with which Jack Harden handled 
his pie with his knife. 

So with laughter and gay chatter the 
lunch was eaten and cleared away, and 
some one proposed some games. 

“ Let’s play ‘ On the green carpet,’ ” said 
Phoebe Small, and a chorus of voices echoed : 
“ Oh, yes ! Let’s play that first ; ” so, join- 
ing hands, they sang the old tune as they 
danced about Helen, whom they insisted 
should first stand in the centre. 

“ And choose the one 
That you love best,” 

sang the children. 

I choose Randy,” said Helen, much to 
Randy’s delight. 

“ Give her a kiss and send her away. 

And tell her you’ll call another day,” 

sang the gay little troop, and Helen stooped, 
and taking Randy’s sweet face between her 
hands she kissed her and slipped from the 
ring. Around and about Randy they cir- 


THE PICNIC 


105 


cled, and then she must choose. She longed 
to choose Helen, and turned toward her, but 
Helen said, “ We must not keep choosing 
each other, Randy, because it is more fun 
to change about,” so Randy turned with a 
puzzled face, wondering whom to choose. 
Seeing the little sister’s eager face, she 
decided at once. “I choose you, pussy,” 
said she. 

Into the ring sprang Prue. Oh, Randy,” 
said the child, “ you did love me best, didn’t 
you?” 

Of course,” said Randy ; “ but now we 
know, Prue, that you love me best, you 
choose the one you love next best, because 
that’s the way to play it;” so, wondering 
much whom the child would favor, Randy 
left her in the circle. But it did not take 
dear little Prue a great while to decide. 

^‘Next to Randy, I guess I like you, 
Jotham, so I choose you,” said the child. 
Every one laughed except Jotham, who, 
seeing the little girl’s lip quiver, said awk- 
wardly, yet very kindly, ‘‘ You’re a nice 


106 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


little girl, Prue, and I’m real proud to have 
you choose me ; ” at which Prue’s spirits 
rose, and, turning with one little hand in 
Jotham’s, she said : ‘‘ You needn’t have 
laughed if I did choose a big boy. He’s 
very nice, and ’most always gives Randy 
candy, and she gives some to me.” 

This so amused every one that they com- 
menced to pet Prue, and, much to Jotham’s 
delight, the game ended, for he felt that he 
could have chosen none but Randy as his 
favorite among his friends, and he realized 
that this would have been a trying ordeal 
for his diffidence. 

Many games they played that sunny 
afternoon, and so fast flew the hours that 
every one was surprised when Deacon Turn- 
bull pulled out his great, old-fashioned 
timepiece ” and declared that it wanted 
a quarter to six, and that they ought to be 
hitchin’ up and startin’ toward home.” 

So the baskets and pails were packed 
into the wagons, the horses harnessed, and 
the merry, tired party started homeward. 


THE PICNIC 


107 


Some of the picnickers were jolly, singing 
as they went along, others were too tired 
to sing ; but all were unanimous in voting 
the picnic a success, many declaring that 
it was just wonderful how Miss Dayton 
planned it, and that they didn’t know when 
they’d had such a good time. The ride 
with Helen was delightful to the two chil- 
dren, Randy looking admiringly at Helen 
all the way and talking little. She was 
really too happy for conversation. 

Not so with little Prue. She sat between 
Helen and Randy, and all the way home 
her chatter was interspersed with snatches 
of the songs which had been a part of their 
games. 

“ ‘ On the green carpet here we stand, 

Take your true love by the hand, 

Give her a kiss and send her away, 

And tell her — ’ 

That’s just the best picnic I ever saw, wasn’t 
it, Randy ? ” 

Before Randy could answer, out rang the 
childish treble again : — 


108 


bandy's summer 


“ ^ Sailor in er boat when the tide runs high, 

Sailor in er boat when the tide runs high, 

Sailor in er boat when the tide runs high. 
Waiting for a pretty girl to — ’ 

Oh, Miss Dayton, don’t you think Jotham’s 
’most as nice as a prince ? I do,” said Prue, 
without waiting for an answer, although she 
looked up in Miss Dayton’s face expect- 
antly. 

Helen took Prue’s little dimpled hand in 
her own as she said : “ All princes are not 
good, although many of them are very, very 
good indeed. Jotham has a good face, and 
I am sure when I really know him I shall 
like him very much. If he grows to be a 
good, brave, true man, that is worth much 
more than being a prince.” 

‘‘Yes’m,” said Prue, not quite catching 
Helen’s meaning, yet vaguely understand- 
ing that Jotham was fully appreciated. 
Prue’s curly head swayed a little, like a 
tired flower; and Helen, slipping her arm 
around her, drew her toward her, and soon 
the little girl’s head lay against her new 
friend. 


THE PICNIC 


109 


Still she sang, although drowsily : — 

“ Oh, what a beautiful choice you’ve made, 
Don’t you wish you’d longer stayed ? ” 

The last line was drawled out so slowly that 
Randy said, ‘‘Oh, wake up, Prue, you’re 
asleep.” 

“ I guess I ain’t sleepy, but my eyes feel 
’s if — ” she was now really asleep just as 
they reached Farmer Gray’s door. 

Mr. Weston was waiting in the dooryard 
with his own team to take the children 
home, and, after an exchange of remarks 
with Mr. Gray regarding the weather and 
bluff, but hearty thanks to Miss Dayton for 
the children’s day of pleasure, he took little 
Prue in his arms, and, placing her in 
Randy’s lap, gathered up the reins, and 
with a resounding “ g’lang there ” the old 
mare ambled toward home. 

Mrs. Weston was at the door when they 
arrived. “ Well, Randy,” said she, smiling. 

“Oh, mother!” cried Randy, ‘‘it was 
just splendid, and we had such good times 
all day.” 


110 


RANDY SUMMER 


What ! Prue asleep ? ” 

“No,” said little Prue, “I ain’t asleep, 
but my eyes feel funny, and we had ginger- 
bread and peppermints, and cold sausage 
and lemonade, and ^ On the — green — car- 
pet,’ and I chose Jotham, and I had a wreath 
and some maple sugar, and it was all made . 
of daisies and butter — cups — and — and,” 
but here she lost the thread of her story, 
and was carried upstairs and put in her 
bed. 


CHAPTER VII 


RANDY OUTWITS JASON MEADE 

The day after the picnic was a busy one 
for Mrs. Weston, and Randy, eager to be 
helpful, was really a fine assistant. She 
washed all the dishes, allowing little Prue 
to wipe the spoons, knives, and forks because 
they would not break if dropped, then she 
thoroughly cleansed the milk cans and put 
them just outside the door to dry in the 
bright sunlight. 

Now, mother, what do you suppose I’m 
going to do next ? ” said Randy. 

“ I don’t know,” said her m.other, “ but 
ye have worked this morning like all 



“Well,” said Randy, “I’m just going to 
bring in towels and aprons from the line 
and sprinkle and iron them, so’s you can 
sit down awhile after dinner.” 


Ill 


112 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


Mrs. Weston looked at the bright, flushed 
face a moment, then said : I do declare, 
Randy, you’re a real help. There ain’t a 
better daughter in this town, if I do say it.” 

“Oh, mother,” said Randy, “I’d ’most 
work my fingers ofi just to hear you say 
that. I help you because I love you, though 
somehow I never ’til now could say it.” 

Mrs. Weston wiped her eyes with a corner 
of her apron, then, turning to Randy, she 
kissed her, saying : “ Why, Randy, it does 
me good to hear you say it, and, child, ye 
must know I’m all bound up in you and 
Prue. We busy folks sometimes forget to 
show how much we really feel.” 

“ I mean,” said Randy, “ to make you 
and father happy, always ; sometimes I 
forget to help, but always I mean to.” 

“ I know ye do,” said her mother. 

Randy moved about the kitchen with a 
subtle sense of exhilaration. Her mother 
had always been kind and good, but to have 
her speak of her affection and say a word 
of approval for her helpfulness, what more 


BANDY OUTWITS JASON MEADE 113 


could be needed to make a young girl happy ? 
thought Randy. 

She sang little snatches of melody while 
she cleared the dinner table, and grasped 
the first leisure moment to steal out under 
the apple tree, thence toward the hrook 
to the old stone wall. A large stone had 
toppled from the wall, and Randy sat down 
upon it to rest. She had intended to make 
a little call upon Miss Dayton, to talk over 
the events of the picnic, and to hear what 
her new friend had to tell her ; for Helen 
had hinted that she had another good time 
planned, and she promised to tell Randy all 
about it when next they met. 

Tall alders grew luxuriantly almost the 
entire length of the wall, which served as 
a fence for one side of the pasture ; and 
Randy, a bit tired with the forenoon’s work, 
easily fell into one of her day-dreams, 
when she was aroused by hearing voices 
behind the alders. There seemed to he two 
voices, and Randy heard them mention her 
father’s name. She was an honest girl. 


114 


bandy’s summer 


who, under ordinary circumstances, would 
have scorned to listen ; but something in 
the tone of the speaker’s voice seemed dis- 
tinctly unfriendly when he spoke of her 
father, and Randy seemed, against her will, 
riveted to the spot and obliged to listen. 
She must have taken her place on the big 
stone when the conversation was well under 
way, but the sound of her own footsteps, 
while unheard by the earnest talkers, had 
prevented her from hearing their voices. 
She was invisible to them as they were to 
her, separated as they were by the alders. 

‘‘ Now, I’ve tried and tried ’til I’m tired 
er tryin’ to sell Mr. Weston that piece er 
medder land er mine, ’n’ it would a been 
sold long ago if I hadn’t been bound to 
swap land instead er taking cash.” 

‘‘Yes, but I don’t see the great pint er 
not takin’ cash ef he’s fool enough to pay 
it,” said the second voice. 

“ I don’t s’ pose ye do, ’til I tell ye. Ye 
haven’t been here fer years, ’n’ only come 
yisterday, an’ ef you was anybody under the 



“Neaker to the Wall she crept*' Page 115 




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BANDY OUTWITS JASON MEADE 115 


sun but my own brother, I wouldn’t tell ye 
now.” 

How Randy’s heart beat ! Surely, it was 
right to listen now. If any one meant to 
do her father harm, she must know it and 
warn him. Nearer to the wall she crept, 
with a stealth which she was unaware she 
possessed, and she tried to hush her breath- 
ing which came quick and hard. 

Just listen to this, Jim. My wife’s just 
got back from a visit to her folks, I forgit 
the name of the town, ’though it’s on my 
tongue’s end this minute, and while she was 
there she heard say that they’re goin’ to 
run a railroad through this part of the 
town, next summer, jest a sort er branch 
road from the one that goes through the 
centre, and my wife never let on that she 
was much interested ; but she asked ’nough 
questions, kinder keerful like, and she found 
that ef they do build the road, and she says 
the folks down that way say they do really 
mean to, it’ll be straight across that little 
bit er rocky field, back er Weston’s barn. 


116 


bandy" S SUMMER 


Now, I argy that Weston’s got money 
^nougliy and I mean ter keep at him ’til he 
agrees ter swap that ’ere little pesky, rocky 
field er his’n fer my piece er medder land. 
The more I urge him the less he seems ter 
want ter swap, an’ I even offered to throw 
in a good young steer to boot, an’ all the 
satisfaction I could git out er him was, 
‘Wal’, I dunno what makes yer so anxious 
fer that little piece er land er mine.’ 

‘‘ He don’t know nothin’ ’bout the rail- 
road yet, but there’s no knowin’ how soon 
he will. My wife’s naggin’ me to make 
him swap, but I’d like to see her try to 
hurry Weston when he don’t intend to 
hurry ; but I tell ye now, ef that ’ere road 
does run through his field, I mean ter own 
it fust, an’ I’m goin’ up ter night ter talk 
him inter it.” 

Randy now realized that the speaker’s 
voice was no other than Jason Meade’s. 
She was but fifteen, but she knew that if 
her father yielded to his neighbor’s urging, 
it would in some way mean loss to him. 


BANDY OUTWITS JASON MEADE 117 


All thought of her call upon Helen vanished, 
and in its place lay a great fear that she 
might be seen before she could get away 
from her hiding place and rush home. 

She was a bit cramped with her crouch- 
ing pose behind the wall. Slowly she 
arose to her feet, glided along upon the 
grass, lest her footsteps should be heard, 
and, once in the grove, she sprang across 
the brook, dashed through the fields, up 
the path, and into the kitchen door, where 
she dropped upon a chair and tried to 
speak. 

“Why, Randy Weston! whatever ails 
ye ? Ye look ’s if ye’d seen a ghost. Why, 
father,” as the girl did not speak, “jest 
come look at Randy. She’s been runnin’ 
’til she’s clean tuckered out, ’n’ can’t seem 
to speak.” 

Mr. Weston came hastening in from the 
well with a pail of water, which he set 
down when he saw Randy. 

“ Why, Randy, child, what — ” 

“Oh, father, — the little rocky field behind 


118 


BANDY'S SUMMED 


the barn, — don’t sell it, don’t swap it; the 
railroad’s going through it ; and oh, father, 
that’s why Jason Meade wants to make 
you swap it. It’s going to be worth lots 
and lots of money; he can’t make you 
swap it, can he, father?” and in her 
anxiety she sprang up and put her hands 
upon her father’s shoulders. 

“ There, there, Randy, you’ve done your 
father a good turn this time, sure enough, 
ef it’s true. Sit down and tell me where 
ye heard all this.” 

So Randy, having regained her breath, 
told her anxious listeners the tale, begin- 
ning with her intended call upon Miss 
Dayton ; how she strolled through the grove 
and across the brook, and sat down to rest 
upon the big stone by the wall, with the 
great alders behind her ; how she had, at 
first sound of the voices, tried not to listen, 
and, on hearing an unfriendly voice men- 
tion her father’s name, she had, although 
afraid of detection, crept close to the wall, 
to hear if the men really meant to harm 
him. 


RANDY OUTWITS JASON MEADE 119 


Then she had told all that she had heard, 
word for word, finishing with, “ And, father, 
he cant make you swap, can he? he seemed 
so determined.” 

Then Mr. Weston did a very unusual 
thing. Putting his arm around Randy, he 
drew her down upon his knee, where she 
had not sat since she was a little girl like 
Prue, and as he looked at her, with just a 
suspicion of moisture in his kind, blue eyes, 
he said, Mother, we’ve got a girl to be 
proud of.” 

‘^And to be thankful for,” said Mrs. 
Weston. 

“ Amen ! ” said Randy’s father, and he 
added, “ Always be as brave and quick to 
do what’s right, Randy, as you have been 
to-day, even forgetting your own pleasure, 
and I will trust you anywhere.” 

Here little Prue, who had been awed 
into silence by the earnestness of the con- 
versation, found her tongue once more, and 
piped in with, “ AVhy, pa, my big sister 
Randy’s been good again. How can she be 
always good ? ” 


120 


bandy’s summer 


They all laughed, and Randy, catching 
little Prue and giving her a tight hug, said : 

I know who’s got the best little sister in 
all the world. I have, just as sure as your 
name is Prudence.” 

I like you to love me lots, Randy dear, 
but don’t you call me anything but Prue. 
‘ Prudence ’ makes me think of Aunt Pru- 
dence, and she looked all so,” and here 
Prue drew down her wee mouth, and puck- 
ered up her fair little forehead and brows 
into such a scowling imitation of Aunt 
Prudence, that even her father, who did 
not at all approve, could not help smiling 
at the dimpled copy of that lady’s un- 
pleasant face. 

Soon Mrs. Weston had tea ready, and 
the family had but just finished the even- 
ing meal when a loud tap at the door 
announced some neighbor’s arrival. Mr. 
Weston looked at his wife, with a twinkle 
in his eye, as he arose to answer the 
knock. 

Well, well, Jason, come in, come ini” 


BANDY OUTWITS JASON MEADE 121 

Thus Mr. Weston welcomed his crafty 
neighbor. 

‘‘How are ye, Square W eston ? I thought 
I’d jist drop in an’ see if you’d made up 
yer mind about that piece er land er 
mine.” 

“ Well, yes, I hev,” said Mr. Weston, 
looking his neighbor squarely in the face ; 
“I told ye, a month ago, I’d give ye two 
hundred dollars in cash fer that big medder 
of yourn.” 

“I know it, I know you did; but the 
thing is, I’ve took a reel fancy to that little 
rocky pasture er yourn, and I feel ’s if I’d 
lots rather have it, little as it is, than the 
cash, ’f you’ll believe me.” 

Jason Meade sat back in his chair with 
the bland air of a man who had done a 
good deed in praising his neighbor’s prop- 
erty. 

Mrs. Weston came out of the closet where 
she had been placing the dishes and stood 
by her husband’s chair, anxiously awaiting 
his answer. She knew his generous nature. 


122 


randy's summer 


but she believed that this time he would be 
firm. 

Randy, who after tea had taken the fairy 
book to the table to read, now leaned for- 
ward with parted lips. 

Slowly Mr. Weston turned toward his 
neighbor, and a faint smile played about his 
lips as he said, “ I’ll tell ye, Jason, I jist 
thought that while it ain’t so very val’able 
now, I’ve ’bout decided to keep it, for when 
the railroad comes clean through it, I’m 
thinkin’ I’ll be reel pleased to think it’s my 
property.” 

Jason Meade’s mouth opened to its 
widest extent, and to say that he was 
amazed, astonished, or surprised, would be 
expressing it very mildly indeed. He 
cleared his throat and blinked once or twice, 
then, as no suitable remark seemed to sug- 
gest itself he arose, and pushing back his 
chair, he said “ he’d reely have to go as he’d 
got an arrant to do at Mrs. Gray’s.” He 
sheepishly made his way toward the door, 
and mumbling something about the weather, 


HANDY OUTWITS JASON MEADE 123 


he dejectedly stalked out with the air of a 
disappointed man. 

‘‘ Why, father,” said Randy, “ he didn’t 
even ask you how you knew about the 
railroad.” 

Mr. Weston laughed as he said : I guess 
he didn’t care how I knew. That I knew 
at all was what worried him.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


TABLEAUX 

One morning Miss Dayton sent a little 
hastily written note to Mrs. Weston, saying 
that she was planning another entertain- 
ment which she believed would be as 
enjoyable as the picnic had been, and ask- 
ing if Randy might come over and help 
her make some preparations for the event. 

Mrs. Weston read the note, then re-read 
it to Randy. 

“ Oh, may I go, could yon spare me ? ” 
said Randy, eagerly. 

‘‘Why, yes indeed,” said her mother; 
“ there is less than usual to do to-day, and 
nothing at all after dinner. Fly ’round 
and get cleared up, and you can put on 
your clean red and white gingham and 
your new hat and go over early.” 

124 


TABLEAUX 


125 


“ Fly ’round ! ” Randy did fly, and by 
two o’clock she was off down the road, 
walking as fast as her feet and her enthu- 
siasm would take her. 

What could Miss Dayton be planning, 
thought Randy, as she hastened toward the 
farm-house where Helen was staying. 

Helen saw her coming and opened the 
door, smiling at Randy’s questioning face, 
which expressed a world of interest in 
Helen’s scheme, whatever it might be. 

‘‘Come right in, take off your hat, and 
sit down and I will tell you all about my 
plan for an evening’s pleasure. You know 
I promised when I first met you that I 
would try to make this summer just a bit 
gay during my stay here. Now I believe 
we shall all enjoy an evening of tableaux,” 
but here Helen was obliged to pause and 
explain just what tableaux were, “and,” 
^she continued, “I think that any one of 
the large girls who attended the picnic, 
and a few of the little ones, will make a 
very nice set of pictures.” 


126 


randy's summer 


Oh, I should think it would be lovely, 
but,” Randy added doubtfully, “ what could 
we wear that would be nice enough for pic- 
tures or tab — ” 

“Tableaux,” said Helen. 

“ Yes, tableaux,” said Randy. 

“I will agree to furnish the costumes,” 
said Miss Dayton ; “ they will not have to 
be very fine to look extremely pretty in 
the frame. Mr. Gray has made me a fine 
frame which you and I will cover with 
evergreen. Then Mrs. Gray has two 
bracket lamps which we will fasten to 
the back of the frame to light up the pic- 
tures, and I have a lot of odds and ends of 
pretty things in my trunks which will be 
sufficiently bright and gay for costumes. 
Now let us go at once to the barn and 
decorate the frame.” 

Mr. Gray’s man, Roger, had just brought 
in an immense load of evergreen. Randy 
was all eagerness to help, and together 
they worked all the afternoon. 

When she left for home the frame was 


TABLEAUX 


127 


thickly covered. There was evergreen and 
asparagus over the pictures in the best 
room ” where they were to exhibit to the 
townspeople their tableaux, and Randy 
had seen her costume which Helen had 
designed. 

Miss Dayton was an ardent admirer of 
Greuze, and she possessed many photo- 
graphic reproductions of his paintings. 
She also owned a number of photographs 
of Sir Joshua Reynold’s portraits of beau- 
tiful women and children, and knowing 
the bareness of the walls in the average 
New England farm-house, she had brought 
these pictures with her to decorate her 
room during her stay. She intended to 
copy these beautiful pictures in the list of 
tableaux which she arranged. 

Randy was spellbound when she saw the 
photographs. Oh, Miss Dayton,” cried 
she, ‘‘do you really think any of us will 
do?” 

“ Why, yes indeed,” laughed Helen, “ I 
have you all selected now. You are to 


128 


bandy's summer 


be the girl with the broken pitcher in the 
painting by Greuze. Would you like to 
see your costume ? ” 

“ I guess I should like to,” answered 
Randy, excitedly clapping her hands ; so 
Helen showed her a waist with large, 
loose sleeves, a kerchief or scarf, and a 
wide ribbon ‘Ho tie up her bonny brown 
hair.” 

Randy went home in a fever of excite- 
ment. Think of a girl of fifteen who had 
never witnessed an entertainment of any 
kind, and you will understand with what 
delight she looked forward to an evening 
of tableaux in which she would take part. 

Miss Dayton called upon those girls 
who she thought would like to pose for 
the tableaux, and every one was invited 
to be present. 

The girls, both large and small, were 
delighted, and their elders were quite as 
pleased with the promise of an evening’s 
enjoyment, and every invitation was en- 
thusiastically accepted. Mrs. Gray’s attic 


TABLEAUX 


129 


proved a perfect treasure room. She gen- 
erously offered the contents of all the old 
trunks to Helen, saying, “ If you see any- 
thing which you can make use of, I shall 
be truly glad.” Mrs. Gray had been a city 
girl, and had spent the greater part of her 
married life there, and she brought to the 
farm-house many trunks containing faded 
finery, which, while far too good to be 
thrown away, were of but little use in 
that small country town. Helen chose 
those things which she could best utilize 
and carried them down to the front room, 
where she deposited them behind an im- 
provised screen. 

Randy thought the evening would never 
come ; so did little Prue, for she, too, was to 
be one of the “tab things,” as she called 
them. She could not remember the word 
“ tableaux.” 

But the evening did arrive, and with it 
all the girls whom Helen had drilled for 
the proper posing, all of the boys who 
were curious to see the girls “ fixed up for 


130 


randy's summer 


pictures,” as Reuben Jenks had expressed 
it, and all of the farmers and their wives, 
who were nearly as excited as the young 
people. 

Mrs. Gray and Helen received the friends 
and neighbors as they arrived, showing 
them the photographs on the walls and tell- 
ing them that the girls, correctly dressed, 
would look very much like pictures when 
seen in the frame. 

The frame was in place with a dark 
background behind it, and stretching from 
either side of the frame to the side walls 
of the room were some old brocatelle cur- 
tains which Helen had found in Mrs. Gray’s 
attic. These curtained spaces served as 
dressing rooms. 

Besides the tableaux Helen had planned 
quite a little programme, and although 
much drilling had been necessary, each 
performer was perfect in her part. 

Jotham Potts had, after much urging, 
agreed to read the programme, and Helen 
had promised to contribute a song, and a 


TABLEAUX 


131 


piano solo which should be the opening 
number. 

The hum of conversation rose loud and 
cheery, and so lively did it become that it 
was impossible to hear a completed sen- 
tence. 

“ They say your Phoebe’s goin’ to be a 
dreadful pretty picture to-night.” 

“ What’s she goin’ to — ” 

“ Wal’, I dunno, seems Miss Dayton thinks 
our Jotham has a good voice, so she asked 
him to read the — I forgit what you call it, 
but anyhow I guess — ” 

“ Yes, Miss Dayton says my hair is 
auburn and not red, and she says — ” 

“Why, ef here isn’t Mis’ Weston’s little 
Prue ! ” 

“ Yes’m, I’m going to be one of the tab 
things, and sing a little tune what Miss 
Dayton learned — no, taught me,” said the 
little girl, very proud to think that she had 
remembered the correction. 

“Well, I think she’s real nice to come 
up here and plan such^good times,” but 


132 


bandy's summer 


here Helen tapped upon the piano, and the 
conversation ceased so abruptly that one 
might think that the audience held its 
breath. 

The girls rushed behind the curtains on 
either side of the frame, and Jotham Potts, 
clearing his throat, read the first number 
for the evening. 

Helen had drilled him in pronouncing 
those names which he found difficult, and 
very clearly he read, — 

Our first number will be a piano solo by 
Miss Dayton, entitled, ‘ Marche Militaire.’ ” 

Mr. Potts nudged his wife, saying, in a 
loud whisper, Our Jotham did that just 
like a city feller, didn’t he?” His wife 
ejaculated “Sh — ,” but she smiled and 
nodded, for she was of the same opinion. 

Helen in her white muslin looked very 
beautiful, as she took her seat at the piano. 
That piano was the only one in town, and 
the only one that many of the audience had 
ever heard. Helen was a good musician, 
and the piece, grand in itself, rang out brill- 


TABLEAUX 


133 


iantly, to the great delight of every one 
present, and many were the words of praise 
which reached her ears when she arose. 
One voice, bolder than the others, said, 
“ That’s what I call great ; just one more 
piece. Miss Dayton, ef it ain’t asking too 
much.” 

This was an honest if unceremonious 
encore, so Helen seated herself once more, 
and for those simple country people played 
a brilliant polacca. 

Wal’, ’twas all I could do to keep from 
dancin’, I dew declare,” said old Deacon 
Turnbull, which made every one laugh, as 
the deacon was a very dignified old man. 

Helen rose and saying, ‘‘Now, Jotham,” 
she stepped behind the curtains. “ Our 
next number,” announced Jotham, “will 
be a tableau as nearly as possible like the 
painting entitled ‘ The Age of Innocence.’ ” 

“ That’s it over there,” said Mrs. Buffum 
to her husband, pointing at the photograph 
on the wall, and every one looked that way. 
When the curtain was drawn aside, there 


134 


randy's summer 


was chubby little Hitty BufEum, her hands 
clasped upon her breast, a wee bit of a 
smile on her parted lips — a very good 
counterpart of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s picture. 

“ Oh ! oh my ! She looks just like it. 
Isn’t she cunnin’ ? ” and similar remarks 
greeted the little girl in the first tableau. 
She had done her very best for Miss Dayton. 
Then the curtain swung across the frame 
and Jotham announced, The next number 
will be a song by little Miss Weston.” 

“I didn’t know as the Weston children 
could sing, did you?” queried one neigh- 
bor, but there was no time for an answer, 
for little Prue had taken her place on the 
improvised platform, and Helen was playing 
a little prelude. 

Mrs. Weston laid her hand upon her hus- 
band’s arm. Would Prue, her little Prue, 
get through the song without faltering? 
She need not have feared. Out rang the 
childish treble in the song which Miss Day- 
ton had taught her. How fresh and clear 
the little voice sounded ! 


TABLEAUX 


135 


“ Sometimes I am a daisy bloom, 

I make believe ’tis true, 

I play that all I ever eat 
Is early morning dew. 

" Sometimes I am a butterfly, — 

Just see my gauzy wings ! 

Sometimes I play I am a bird, 

Who only sits and sings. 

“ But always I am mama’s girl. 

And papa’s girlie, too. 

And next to them I love the best, 

I love each one of you.” 

Putting up her dimpled hands she daintily 
kissed her finger tips, made a very cunning 
little bow, and tripped back to Miss Dayton, 
saying, “ Did I do it nice ? ” 

Just splendid, little Prue,” said Jotham. 

“Couldn’t have been better,” said old 
Mrs. Green. 

Then Prue crept up on her father’s lap to 
see “all the other tabs,” she said. 

“ The ‘ Chapeau Blanc,’ which Miss Day- 
ton says means the White Hat,” announced 
Jotham. This time the curtain swept aside 


136 


randt'8 summer 


to disclose Phoebe Small’s little face beneath 
a hat with white gauzy ruffles upon the 
brim, and a feather held in place by a knot 
of blue ribbon. A pearly kerchief about 
the shoulders was most becoming to Phoebe, 
whose usually expressionless face looked 
almost piquant under the saucy white hat 
and feather. 

‘‘Don’t she look like a photograph?” 
whispered Mrs. Small, “ and a good deal 
nicer, if I do say it as shouldn’t,” and Mrs, 
Small looked around with a sniff at those 
present who possibly thought their daugh- 
ters prettier. 

Now, Phoebe’s principal defects were an 
abundance of freckles, and an absence of 
character in her small face ; but the cos- 
tume was becoming, and the freckles not ap- 
parent in the light in which she was posed ; 
so her heart was delighted with words of 
commendation, and she hoped that Jotham 
Potts had seen her tableau. 

As a matter of fact, ‘Jotham had not seen 
her; for, having announced that number, 


TABLEAUX 


137 


he had sat down and waited for Miss Day- 
ton to appear. The next number on the 
programme was his, and now Helen stepped 
from behind the curtain to announce it. 

We will now listen to a solo by Jotham 
Potts.” 

“ Oh ! 00 ! 00 ! Does your Jotham sing ? ” 
asked Mrs. Brimblecom of Mrs. Potts. 

‘‘ Why, no ; leastways I never heard 
him,” said Jotham’s mother, with a twinkle 
in her eyes, for did she not know of 
Jotham’s evenings spent in practising this 
very solo with Miss Dayton’s accompani- 
ment ? 

Randy had said one day to Helen, 
You’d ought to hear Jotham Potts whistle. 
He does it just splendid. It sounds just 
like the brook rippling.” 

When Helen made her plans for the en- 
tertainment, she invited him to give a 
W'histling solo. 

Oh, I’d do anything to ’blige you. Miss 
Dayton, but who’d want to hear me whistle ? ” 
said Jotham. 


138 


handy's summer 


Then Helen told the boy how many peo- 
ple gave whistling solos in the city, with a 
piano accompaniment, and Jotham con- 
sented to “ jest try it ” with the piano. 

After announcing the number, Helen 
seated herself, and played a pretty little 
prelude, and then Jotham commenced to 
whistle a simple piece which Helen played, 
called The Alpine Echo,” in which there 
was an imitation of an Alpine horn, followed 
by echoing notes an octave higher. 

Jotham was, indeed, a charming whistler, 
and as his courage rose, his notes sounded 
true and flutelike, making the song and 
echoes, the piano ever aiding him, until 
with a final thrill and flourish he fin- 
ished his solo, and, blushing and bowing, 
retired. 

The little assembly was much excited 
and there were repeated calls for one more 
whistling solo, and cries of “fine,” and 
“that beats all,” and “whistle just once 
more, Jotham.” So Helen resumed her seat 
at the piano, and this time Jotham whistled 


“Tiiicre stood Handv as the Demurk Little Maid” 139 






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TABLEAUX 


139 


a medley in which were heard The Girl I 
Left Behind Me,” “Yankee Doodle,” and 
“ The Star-Spangled Banner.” 

“ Hooray for Jotham and Miss Dayton, 
I say ! ” shouted Reuben Jenks, and every- 
body cheered. 

Jotham was very happy over his musi- 
cal success, and with a beaming face he 
announced, “ Our next tableau is a 
copy of the large photograph on the right 
wall called ‘ The Broken Pitcher,’ by 
Greuze.” 

This time the curtain drew aside* and 
there stood Randy, sweet Randy, as the 
demure little maid with the broken pitcher 
hanging to her wrist, her beautiful hair 
loosely bound, and her large gray eyes look- 
ing out at one for all the world like the 
Greuze model. 

“ Isn’t she lovely, mother ?” said Jotham, 
who had stolen out in front of the frame 
in order to make sure of seeing this tableau. 

“ Well, I must sa}^, she is, ” said Mrs. 
Potts. “ She’s always a pretty girl, but I 


140 


bandy's summer 


do declare to-night she’s nothin’ short of 
handsome.” 

So I say,” said Jotham, and even 
Randy’s parents were surprised at her 
beauty. The tableau was recalled, and 
this time Randy blushed most becomingly 
because of the encore. 

^‘Oh, do see my Randy!” called little 
Pruej who had been nodding when the 
tableau was first shown, and awoke with 
a start to see her dear Randy looking out 
from the frame. 

‘‘The next number will be a solo by 
Katie Buffum.” Immediately wee Katie 
was in position. She was not diffident in 
the least, and clasping her chubby hands 
she at once piped up with cheery voice : — 

“ Once there was a little mouse 
No bigger than my fumb; 

He crept into my pocket, 

Where he hunted for a crumb. 

“I put my finger in there, 

Just to see what there was in if ; 

But the little mouse was naughty. 

And he bit me in a minute.” 


TABLEAUX 141 

This solo, so cunningly sung by the pudgy 
little mite, ‘‘ brought down the house,” and 
little Katie and her family were delighted 
with the praise which she received. Still 
the little girl stood upon the platform until 
the audience began to think that she wished 
to sing another verse. 

Go on, Katie,” called her brother Jack, 
“ what yer waiting for ? ” 

forgot somefin and I dunno what. 
Oh, yes, I do. It’s dis,” and, making a 
comical little bow, this very conscientious 
little soloist left the platform, feeling that 
now her performance was complete. 

Every one laughed and gave Katie more 
praise, and she curled up in her mother’s 
lap, feeling her wee self to be a very suc- 
cessful singer. 

‘‘We will now look at a tableau called 
‘ Titian’s Daughter,’ ” announced Jotham. 

Away flew the curtain and Jemima Bab- 
son stood in the fine pose, copying to per- 
fection the engraving of that subject. 
Jemima was resplendent. 


142 


randy's summer 


“ Oh ! oh ! ” ejaculated every one. A glint 
of bright light shone in her eyes. She had 
liked that picture better than any which 
Miss Dayton had shown the girls when they 
had called for the first rehearsal, and was 
delighted when Helen chose it for her 
tableau. 

Next came her sister Belinda as the 
“ Magdalene.” Belinda always wore her 
yellow hair in braids, but to-night it shone 
like rippling gold over her shoulders. With 
her blue eyes uplifted, and the shimmering 
mass of yellow hair, who could believe that 
the ‘^Magdalene” was Belinda Babson, the 
girl who climbed every apple tree in her 
father’s orchard, and laughed at chance 
passers-by from the highest branches. 

“A solo by Miss Dayton will close the 
entertainment.” 

Helen had sung at church with the 
congregation, but until to-night no one, 
not even Randy, had heard her sing a 
solo. 

Ah, how sweet and clear sounded her 


TABLEAUX 


143 


voice as, looking across at old Sandy 
McLeod, she sang* “ The Bluebells of Scot- 
land.” 

The proverbial pin could have been 
heard had it been dropped. As the last 
notes ceased, old Sandy arose, and, stoutly 
thumping on the floor with his cane, 
shouted, “Well, noo, that’s bonny, say I, 
Sandy McLeod.” 

“ That’s so,” Said little Reuben Jenks, 
under his breath, for he sat quite near old 
Sandy and was a bit afraid of him. The 
old Scotchman owned a large farm on the 
outskirts of the town and was reported to 
have a deal of money, which most people 
said he never spent. He lived alone and 
was said to be rather crusty. 

One day, when out for a walk, Helen, in 
passing his door, saw old Sandy sitting on 
his door-stone, trying to thread a needle. 
Helen paused for a moment, saying kindly, 
“ Please let me thread it for you.” 

The old man scowled and hesitated, then 
simrendered the needle. Helen threaded 


144 


randy's summer 


it; then, after a few pleasant words, re- 
sumed her walk. 

The old fellow mumbled something, pos- 
sibly thanks, and ever after that morning 
pulled off his cap to Helen when he met 
her. 

Mrs. Gray laughed when Helen said she 
intended to invite him to the entertain- 
ment, saying that he would never come. 
He came, however, very promptly, and it 
was for him she sang the old Scotch ballad. 

“Now,” said Helen, “let us all sing, 
‘ Should Auld Acquaintance be Forgot,’ ” 
and with a will they sang it, old Sandy 
joining in the chorus. 

It was now quite late, but good old Par- 
son Spooner rose and proposed three cheers 
for the young lady who had planned such 
a beautiful entertainment. They were 
given heartily, and then every one crowded 
around Helen to clasp her hand and thank 
her again, and of all the merry party no 
one was happier than she. 

Turning to Mrs. Gray, after the last 


TABLEAUX 


145 


guest had departed, Helen said, “I have 
often helped to entertain, with some suc- 
cess, but in the city one does not always 
feel the thanks so enthusiastically ex- 
pressed to be sincere, but who could 
doubt the genuineness of the kind words 
spoken to-night?” 


CHAPTER IX 


CALLERS 

“ Randy, wake up ! ” 

“Yes, oh yes, in a minute,” Randy 
answered, drowsily. 

“ No, now, Randy, wake up now ! I want 
to talk about those tab things what we had 
last night,” and two little soft arms wound 
their way about sleepy Randy’s neck. 

Randy rubbed her eyes, laughing as she 
said, “Do call them tableaux, Prue, can’t 
you remember that? Tableaux, Prue, say 
so.” 

“ Tabby-lows ! ” shouted Prue. “ How’s 
that?” 

“ Better,” said Randy, still laughing. 

“Well, whatever you call ’em, yours 
was the prettiest, Randy dear, the very 
prettiest, and Jotham said so, too, so of 

146 


CALLERS 


147 


course it’s true,” said little Prue, who had 
been sitting up in bed in order to see her 
sister’s face when she repeated the compli- 
ment. 

“ Now, Prue,” said Randy, “ did he say 
that because you asked him?” 

Why, no,” said the child, whose smil- 
ing face now assumed an injured expres- 
sion. “ He didn’t say it to me ’tall. He 
said it to his mother; I heard him, and 
she said she thought so, too, I heard her ; 
she sat just behind us. Now, Randy 
Weston, I thought it was real nice to tell 
you, and that’s what I waked you up for.” 

‘‘It’s all very nice,” Randy answered, 
“that you liked my picture best; and do 
you know, little sister, I would rather have 
you pleased than almost any one, next to 
father and mother.” 

“Why?” questioned the little girl, in 
genuine surprise. 

“ Because,” said her sister, “ you’re a 
little girl who means just what she says.” 

“ Yes, I do mean it, Randy dear ; you did 


148 


randy's summer 


look just the best of any one, but you’d 
ought to seen Jotham,” she continued, he 
meant it, too. He meant it just tremen- 
jous f ” 

^‘Well, Jotham’s kind, too,” said Randy; 
then, with a happy little sigh, she turned 
a smiling face to little Prue as she said, 
“ ’most every one’s good, I do believe.” 

‘‘Not near as good as you, Randy,” said 
Prue, thoughtfully ; but, she added, bright- 
ening, “ I mean to be good all day, ’cause 
why do you s’pose, Randy ? ’Cause I had 
such a good time last night.” 

“ That’s a good reason,” said* Randy. 
Soon Randy proposed dressing, and at the 
breakfast table Prue resumed the conversa- 
tion with which she had awakened Randy. 

All agreed that it had been just a lovely 
evening, but the little girl was not quite 
satisfied. 

“ Well, now, we did have a splendid time,” 
said she, “ but I want you to say my Randy 
was just the best of all.” 

“Why, of course, we say so,” said her 


CALLEnS 


149 


father, laughing; ‘-but who sang a nice 
little song?” 

“ Oh, I ’most forgot, I sang a little tune 
and so did Katie Buffum.” 

So you did, so you did,” said her father, 
and your mother and I thought you little 
girls did your parts well.” 

‘‘I think they all did wonderful,” said 
Mrs. W eston. “ I was jest proud of my girls, 
and my neighbors’ children, too. I do 
declare, I believe Miss Dayton can do any- 
thing. Last evening jest did me good. 
Well, this won’t do for me,” she added, 
“there’s a sight to do to-day.” 

“We’ll help,” said Randy and Prue to- 
gether. 

“ I guess I’ll have to have you help me, 
Randy, if you’re a mind to.” 

“ Me too, me too,” cried Prue. 

So Randy fiUed a large pan with hot 
water and Prue armed herself with a long 
towel, and the two commenced work as if 
their lives depended upon it. 

Mrs. Weston was an energetic woman 


150 


bandy’s summer 


and soon her pies were made and baked, 
and standing to cool upon the table. The 
children had worked bravely all the fore- 
noon, Randy doing a great deal to be help- 
ful, and Prue assisting in many small things. 
Randy was just thinking that she would 
surely scorch if she remained in the hot 
kitchen another minute, when such an 
interesting thing happened. 

Up the well-trodden path to the kitchen 
door came Mrs. Hodgkins, the best woman 
in town and the newsiest,” as Silas Barnes 
had described her. 

The children were always delighted to 
see her coming, as a call from Mrs. Hodg- 
kins meant numberless scraps of gossip, 
and in a small country town where neigh- 
bors are few and far between, anything in 
the shape of news is welcome. 

Laboriously the good woman stepped 
from door-stone to threshold, and volumi- 
nously filling the wooden rocker which Mrs. 
Weston offered her, she fanned herself with 
her handkerchief, ejaculating between gasps 


CALLERS 


151 


for breath, Lor’ me ! How hot it is ! Ef 
I ever get my breath again, I’ll try ter talk 
a spell.” But it would have been some- 
thing greater than shortness of breath that 
could have completely silenced Mrs. Hodg- 
kins. A few energetic movements of the 
palm-leaf fan which Randy offered her, a 
few moments of jerky rocking in the old 
wooden rocker, and she was ready to begin. 

“Well there. Mis’ Weston, I b’lieve I can 
talk now,” said she. “Joel was goin’ over 
to the barn raisin’, an’ I told him I didn’t 
care nothin’ ’bout seein’ it; but ef he’d a 
mind to drive me as fur as your house. I’d 
call in an’ look at yer a spell, ’n’ I can’t 
spare the time to talk ’n’ not do somethin’ 
at the same time,” and she drew from a 
capacious bag an old woollen stocking, say- 
ing, “ I thought I’d bring my knittin’ along 
and p’haps git this stockin’ footed down 
while I was talkin’.” 

“Why, that’s a woollen stocking,” said 
little Prue. “Lor’ yes, child, it’s one of 
Joel’s winter stockin’s. I was up attic yes- 


152 


RANDY SUMMER 


terday huntin’ over my rag bag, ’n’ I came 
across a lot of his old winter stockin’ s that 
I’d ’bout decided to throw away, ’n’ I says 
to myself, ‘ Sophrony Hodgkins, that’s 
downright wasteful,’ ’n’ I’ve just set myself 
a task to foot ’em down ’fore winter.” 
Her needles clicked furiously, and she knit 
around several times before she spoke 
again. With her brows contracted she 
worked until she felt sure that her knitting 
was ‘‘straightened out,” then she paused 
for a chat. 

“ Did you know,” she commenced, “ that 
Phoebe Small was a beggin’ an’ a teasin’ 
her pa to send her to boardin’ school ? 
Well, she is, ’n’ none of the girls could find 
out what put it in her head ter want ter 
go ’til Jemima Babson teased it out of 
her. Seems at the picnic Miss Dayton, in 
some story she was tellin’ the children, let 
out that she went away from home ter 
school, ’n’ Phoebe got the idee that ter go 
away ter school would jest be the makin’ 
of her. Jemima don’t care what she says. 


CALLERS 


163 


an’ she up an’ told Phoebe that it ‘ would 
take more ’n hoardin’ school to make her 
as sweet as Miss Dayton/ all of which was 
true, but not ter Phoebe’s likin’.” 

“ Is she going to boarding school ? ” 
asked Randy. 

‘‘ Land, no ! Her ma told her to wait ’til 
she’d learned all there was ter learn at our 
deestric’ school ’fore she talked ’bout goin’ 
anywhere else ; and that ’bout finished it.” 

Here Mrs. Hodgkins, who had said all 
this without stopping, paused to take 
breath. I shouldn’t like my girls to be 
away at boardin’ school,” said Mrs. Weston, 
and I think Mrs. Small would feel ’bout 
as I do.” 

‘^An’ there’s Mrs. Buffum,” continued 
Mrs. Hodgkins, “ with all her children, ’n’ 
she says they’ve got to be where she can 
see ter them, an’ git their lamin’ ter home, 
and now I’ll tell yer the joke. It seems 
Miss Dayton laughed when she heard about 
it, for she wasn’t at boardin’ school at all ; 
she was at school, and was boardin’ at a 


154 


HANDY'S SUMMER 


big hotel with her aunt, ’n’ the hotel was 
near the school. But there, ye know 
Phoebe Small never gits anything more ’n 
half right. 

“ But I’ll tell ye somethin’ worth tellm’. 
Old Sandy McLeod’s cornin’ to meetin’ ! ” 

“You don’t say!” ejaculated Mrs. Wes- 
ton, lifting her hands, and letting them fall 
upon her lap, thereby showing the surprise 
which Mrs. Hodgkins thought this piece of 
news deserved. 

“ Well, you see, it was this way,” con- 
tinued the bearer of this pleasant bit of 
gossip ; “ it commenced with Miss Dayton’s 
doin’ a few little things fer him. Nobody 
b’lieved fer a minute that he’d come to 
Mrs. Gray’s, to the entertainment ; but Miss 
Dayton asked him in her pretty way, and 
he hadn’t the heart ter refuse ter come, ’n’ 
he had such a nice evenin’, and heard her 
sing that Scotch song, and all, ’n’ he says 
now he’s made a great mistake stayin’ off 
by himself so long. An’ he’s been to Par- 
son Spooner and, ef you’ll believe it, hired 


CALLEES 


155 


a whole pew, sayin’ he could well afford to; 
en’ he says that as there’s only one in his 
family, any one that wants ter can sit in 
his pew, any time. 

“ He says he always went ter church, 
though he calls it ‘ kirk,’ or something like 
that, when he was a young man and lived 
in Scotland; an’ he says, rain or shine, 
we’ll see him in his place every Sunday, 
after this. When somebody asked him 
what made him think of goin’ ter church 
again, he drew that great rough hand of 
his across his eyes, and jist said, ‘ It’s all 
the doin’ of that lass,’ meanin’ Miss Day- 
ton. And let me tell yer somethin’ queerer 
than that ! Did ye notice old Nathan 
Lawton the other night ? 

My ! how his eyes twinkled when the 
children were singin’. Ye know he’s dread- 
ful fond of children; but ye know, too, 
ef ye know anything, that he’s tighter ’n 
the bark of a tree. Well, Miss Dayton 
heard say what a bad room fer heatin’ 
that schoolroom was, and how the little 


156 


bandy’s summed 


buildin’ was kind er fer off fer most of the 
children. 

Wall, after we’d seen all the pictures, 
or what yer call ’ems, and she’d sung 
her song so sweetly, old Nathan spoke 
ter her, an’ thanked her for the pleasant 
evenin’, sayin’ he’d do most anythin’ ter 
obleege her, in return, as ye might say, fer 
his enjoyment ; and I had ter laugh softly 
ter myself when she put her little white 
hand on his arm and said she thought 
nothin’ would please her so much as ter 
think, when she went home, that the 
children here would start ter school in a 
comfortable, warm room, ’specially ef it 
could be one that was handy for them all ; 
and she asked him, as one of the see-lect- 
men, ter manage it some way. 

He just took one look at the smilin’ 
face lookin’ up at him, and then and there 
offered the use of that front room of his’n, 
and promised ter keep it roastin’ warm all 
winter, from his own wood-pile. His house 
is just about the handiest ter every one of 


CALLEBS 


157 


any house in town, and I do say that was 
a han’some offer. 

Any other folks might have asked him 
’til they got tired askin’ j but he couldn’t 
refuse her, ’n’ I don’t wonder. She’s just 
done us a world of good this summer, ’n’ in 
such an easy, pretty way that we’ve just 
enjoyed it. 

“And now I’ve come ter what fetched 
me here ter day. Mrs. Gray said ter me 
that Miss Dayton never went to an apple- 
bee; and I was thinkin’ she got up that 
picnic, and that splendid evenin’ with the 
music,” — “ and tab things,” said Prue, — 
“an’ I’ve been thinkin’ it’s ’bout time we 
got up somethin’ fer her,” said good Mrs. 
Hodgkins, and she beamed upon Mrs. Wes- 
ton and Randy as she waited for their 
approval. 

“ I think so too,” said Randy and her 
mother together ; “ but do you think that 
she would enjoy an apple-bee ?” 

“ Well, we couldn’t get up anything 
fine,” said Mrs. Hodgkins; “but they do 


158 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


say that our apple-bees are ’bout the best 
that they have anywhere ’round here.” 

Mrs. Weston thought a moment, then 
said : Our house is the biggest in the 

neighborhood, an’ Miss Dayton has been 
so kind to Randy and Prue that I’ll say 
we’ll have the apple-bee here, and I think 
we’ll try extry hard to make it a pleasant 
one. I’m real glad you thought of it, Mrs. 
Hodgkins. I think we’ll all enjoy it, an’ if 
Miss Dayton does, that’s all we’ll ask for.” 

‘‘Well, ef here ain’t Joel,” said Mrs. 
Hodgkins, “an’ I’ll have ter be goin’; but 
I’ll come over an’ help ye git ready for the 
apple-bee, so good-by ’til I see ye again,” 
and she hastily took her departure, puffing 
down the walk like a small engine, and 
clambering into the wagon beside her hus- 
band. “ Good-by, I’ll be over ter help ye,” 
she cried, looking back ; then they Jogged 
off down the road. 

Randy and her mother turned from the 
doorway and walked back into the kitchen. 
“ Look at that clock, Randy ! ” exclaimed 


CALLEB8 


159 


Mrs. Weston ; I guess it’ll be a funny din- 
ner to-day,” and she commenced to make 
hasty preparations for the noon meal. 

Mr. Weston laughed good-naturedly when 
he heard of the forenoon caller, and in con- 
sequence the picked-up dinner.” Lots of 
folks haven’t as good a dinner as this, 
mother,” said he, ‘‘and I must say, I’m 
glad she came in ter talk ter ye and so 
make ye stop workin’ a spell. Where is 
Prue?” 

Sure enough, the little girl who was 
always eager to tell a part of any happen- 
ing was, for once, not in evidence. So busy 
had Randy and her mother been, preparing 
the dinner, that Prue had not been missed. 

“ She went out when Mrs. Hodgkins 
went, don’t you remember, mother ? ” said 
Randy. “She ran down the path, waving 
her hand and saying good-by when they 
drove away.” 

“Well, Randy, run out and find her, and 
tell her ter come in ter dinner. Dear me ! 
I hope she hasn’t got inter some scrape. 


160 


BANDY'S SUMMER 


She’s been out of sight long enough fer 
anything.” Out rushed Randy, calling 
loudly, “ Prue ! Prue ! where are you ? ” 

‘^I’m right here, and I’m very busy,” 
came an answering shout from behind the 
house. 

Around the house ran Randy, and such 
a funny sight she saw ! 

Why, Prue Weston, you naughty girl ! ” 
said Randy in dismay. 

“ I ain’t naughty,” said the child. 

You are, too,” responded Randy, “to 
plague kitty like that. You just take her 
out of that rain-water tub this minute ! If 
she wasn’t the best old cat in the world, she 
would have scratched you well for ducking 
her like that.” 

Prue tried to lift pussy out, and Randy 
ran to help her. 

Poor pussy ! If Randy had been a few 
minutes later, she must surely have been 
drowned, for, just as Randy arrived, Prue 
was holding Tabby’s head under water 
“to let it soak,” she said. 


CALLEBS 


161 


What ever made you do such a thing?” 
questioned Randy, when the cat was once 
more on dry land ; “ don’t you know that 
in a few minutes more you would have 
drowned her ? ” 

“ Drowned ! ” said Prue in a horrified 
whisper, drowned, did you say, Randy ? ” 
Why, of course,” said Randy, impa- 
tiently ; don’t you know she’d drown 
with her head under water ? ” 

Why, Randy, that’s awful ! ” said Prue. 
‘‘I didn’t mean to hurt Tabby. I only 
meant to help her. She corned down from 
the field what’s been burned over, and she 
was all smutty, and I thought I’d give her 
a good washing; so I put her in the tub, 
but the smut sticked awful, and I thought 
I’d soak her and p’rhaps she’d wash easier ; 
and, Randy, whatever you say, she isn't 
drowned one mite. Just see her washing 
herself dry in the sun.” 

“ Oh, Prue, Prue ! ” said Randy, what 
shall I do with you ? You do the queerest 
things ! Go tell Tabby you’re sorry this 


162 


randy's summer 


minute. If kitty had died, just think how 
you’d felt.” 

“Now, don’t you make me cry, Randy,” 
said Prue, “ ’cause you know I love Tabby, 
and I didn’t mean to hurt her.” 

The cat was an unusually placid animal, 
or she never would have permitted a little 
girl to do such a thing. Prue had always 
used her for a doll, dressing her up in all 
sorts of things, and sometimes dragging 
her about in a wooden box which she 
called a “carriage.” This alleged ve- 
hicle was an old soap box, beautifully 
padded with a woollen shawl. It had 
neither wheels nor springs, and as little 
Prue dragged it along, it thumped over 
twigs and stones with the most surprising 
jolts. Pussy, however, seemed to have a 
species of lethargy, for she slept through 
it all ; so Prue insisted that she liked the 
ride. The family declared the cat to be 
absolutely without vim ; but that deficiency 
in her make-up made her a delightful play- 
thing for Prue. 


CALLERS 


163 


After dinner Mrs. Weston talked long 
and seriously with her little daughter, tell- 
ing her that as pussy was so gentle and 
willing to be played with, she ought to be 
very kind to her and never do anything 
that Tabby would not like. 

“ But I wanted Tabby to be clean in 
time for the folks to see her when we 
have the apple-bee,” said Prue. 

Oh, she’ll be clean as clean can be 
by that time,” said her mother, smiling. 
“ She’ll have a whole week to wash in. I 
think that when you wish to do something 
to kitty different from what you’ve done 
before, you’d better come and ask me 
first.” 

“ I will,” said the little girl, promptly, 
and Mrs. Weston knew that pussy was 
safe from any new torment, for Prue 
always kept her word, and she loved 
Tabby dearly. 

Early in the afternoon, as Mrs. Weston 
sat by the window mending, another wagon 
stopped at the door ; and this time a tall. 


164 


bandy’s summer 


angular woman came up the path with 
nervous haste. The door was open, and 
without waiting to knock, the caller walked 
in and seated herself. 

There, I guess you’re s’ prised to see 
me. Mis’ Weston, but I jest had ter come.” 

‘‘Well, I am surprised,” responded Mrs. 
Weston; “ but I’m just as pleased ter see 
ye. Take off yer bunnit.” 

“ I’ll take it off jest ter show it ter ye,” 
said Mrs. Jenks. “ I thought I’d had 
change of heart years an’ years ago, but 
I guess I’ve jest got it now.” 

“ Do tell ! Why, Mrs. Jenks, how ye 
talk,” and in blank amazement Mrs. 
Weston stopped mending, the stocking, 
however, still drawn over her hand. 

“Well, ye might as well stop mendin’ 
an’ listen, fer I’ve come ter tell ye quite 
a story. It all began with this bunnit. 
I stepped over ter Mis’ Gray’s one morn- 
in’ of an arrant, an’ I chanced .to say 
something about not havin’ a decent bun- 
nit fer Sunday, an’ I said I had a bunnit 


CALLERS 


165 


I’d bought down ter Barnses and quite a 
lot of old ribbon that was plenty good 
enough to trim it with ; but, says I, I’ve 
no more idee how to trim it than a cat. 
Miss Dayton was just cornin’ in the door 
with a lot of wild flowers and green stuff, 
and she offered, so sweetly, to call over in 
the afternoon and jest tack the ribbons 
on fer me that, some way, I had ter let her 
do it. 

“Well, she came over and I got out my 
ribbon — it was that I had on a blue dress 
of mine once — and she sat down to trim 
it. It took some time, and to this day I 
don’t know how it came about, but the first 
thing I knew she was a-makin’ me see how 
much better it was to give rather than 
receive. Now I’ve been pretty ‘ near ’ and 
savin’, but I never meant ter be mean ; but 
she led me to talk of the time when Reuben 
was little, and ’fore I knew it I was tellin’ 
that girl how I used to leave my work jist 
ter look at him in the old wooden cradle. 
I told her what I’d most forgot myself : 


166 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


how I could never let him lay there, but 
jest had ter take him up and hug him jest 
a minute an’ then go on with my work. 
I’ve never meant ter be hard with the boy, 
but p’r’aps I forgit sometimes that he’s 
pretty young still. 

“ Well, Miss Dayton looked up from the 
bows she was makin’ pretty, and says 
she, ‘ Reuben’s a nice little fellow, and I 
think, if you were to try it, you’d find he 
liked petting still. I’ve talked with him 
many times since I’ve been here, and I find 
that his one idea seems to be to grow up 
as fast as possible so as to be able to help 
father and mother.’ 

“I tell ye. Mis’ Weston, I was all took 
back to find a sweet young girl who was 
’most a stranger to us had learned my 
boy’s good traits ’fore I had. Well, when 
Reuben came in jist ’fore supper-time with 
his jacket with a big tear in it, I was jist 
ready ter say somethin’. He took the 
jacket off and hung it on my chair ter be 
mended ; and layin’ his hand on my shoul- 


CALLERS 


167 


der, he said, ^ I wish I didn’t get my things 
tore quite so often, mother, but this time I 
couldn’t help it.’ 

“It took lots er resolution, but I jest 
kissed him on his forehead, and the s’ prised 
look on his face made me realize how long 
it had been sence I’d kissed him before. 

“^Reuben,’ says I, ‘no matter what I 
say when I speak hasty, just remember 
that yer mother thinks the world of ye ! ’ 

“ ’F you’ll believe me, that boy flew at 
me, and puttin’ his arms round my neck he 
said, ‘ Why, mother, a minute ago I was 
awful sorry, and now I’m almost glad I 
tore my jacket.’ 

“ ‘ So be I,’ says I, and then we both 
laughed, but we were jest as near cryin’, 
and I tell you. Mis’ Weston, I ain’t never 
goin’ ter have such a distance, so to speak, 
between my boy and me as there has been ; 
I guess we understand each other now.” 

“Well, I don’t know when I’ve heard 
any better news,” said Mrs. Weston, taking 
off her glasses and slowly wiping them. 


168 


randy's summer 


I think pretty well of little Reuben, and 
I b’lieve, properly encouraged, he’ll make 
a good man.” 

Well, now, it beats all bow Miss Dayton 
does things,” said Mrs. Jenks. “ Some folks 
would have blundered about it in a way 
that would have made me mad, but to this 
day, I do say, I don’t know how she done 
it. And look at that bunnit,” continued 
enthusiastic Mrs. Jenks, ‘‘ didn’t she make 
them bows pretty ? I declare, there ain’t a 
prettier bunnit in the meetin’ -house than 
that.” 

“’Tis pretty,” assented Mrs. Weston; 
^‘just as pretty as it can be.” 

So I say,” said Mrs. Jenks, “ and now 
this mornin’ I met Mis’ Hodgkins and her 
husband. ‘ They’d just come from here,’ 
they said, ‘ and,’ says Mis’ Hodgkins, ^ we’re 
goin’ ter have the first apple-bee ter Mis’ 
Weston’s and,’ says she, sorter smilin’, ‘ I 
ain’t sure’s you’ll be very anxious ter help, 
but we’re all goin’ ter do our part ter help 
make a grand time fer Miss Dayton ; ’ and 


CALLERS 


169 


says I, ‘ If it’s fer Miss Dayton, I’ll agree 
to contribute anything you like toward the 
supper, and I’ll go right over now an’ tell 
Mis’ Weston so.’ My, but didn’t she look 
at me ! I laughed ter myself, an’ I said 
right out loud, as I drove off, ‘Matilda 
Jenks, this is the last time any one wiU 
have a chance ter call ye stingy.’ 

“I commenced this mornin’ by givin’ 
Reuben a lot of maple sugar to treat the 
boys with, and I tell you Miss Dayton’s 
’bout right, it does feel good to give. 
We’ve been prospered, and from this time 
forth I ain’t goin’ ter be foolish with this 
world’s goods ; but I vow I won’t be mean ; 
so I’ve come ter say that if there’s anythin’ 
I can offer ter help make the bee a success, 
jest say the word an’ you shall have it.” 

“Mrs. Jenks,” said Mrs. AVeston, kindly, 
“I always said ye hadn’t but one fault, 
and now you’ve overcome that, seems to 
me you’re pretty near perfect.” 

“ I guess there’s room fer improvement,” 
said Mrs. Jenks, grasping her friend’s ex- 


170 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


tended hand, “ but I’ve started in the right 
direction. Now, I must be goin’, and re- 
member I’ll do anything ter help along 
that bee.” 

Mrs. Weston promised to remember, and 
as rapidly as she came Matilda Jenks 
strode down the path and drove away. 

A few minutes later Randy came run- 
ning in at the door. “ Oh, mother,” said 
she, “ I ran out to look for Prue again, 
while Mrs. Jenks was talking, and, mother, 
she’s doing the cunningest thing. She’s 
playing read. She’s lying on the grass 
back of the house, with the fairy book in 
front of her. She’s making b’lieve read 
to Tabby. Do come and see her.” 

Softly they made their way around the 
house and, sure enough, there lay Prue, 
the wonderful fairy book before her, her 
elbows on the book, and her chin in her 
hands. Soon they were near enough to 
hear what she was reading, and yet not to 
be observed. 

‘‘Now, Tabby,” she was saying, “you 



Prl'K anu Taim{v kkaiunc; thk Fairy Hook Fago 170 


t 



CALLERS 


171 


mustn't go to sleep when I’m reading to 
you. Now you listen : The princess — that’s 
Miss Dayton, Tabby — is very beautiful, and 
so I know there must be a prince, some- 
where, that she knows ; ’cause. Tabby, in 
the fairy tales the princesses always has 
princes; and. Tabby, I’ll tell you truly. 
Miss Dayton is prettier than any picture 
in this book. And, Tabby, she loves little 
girls and big girls, like my Randy, and she 
loves big womens and old womens and old 
mens, like Sandy McLeod ; and. Tabby, I 
b’lieve, I most b’lieve she loves you, and 
I’m going to ask her. 

“She prob’ly does love you; she seems 
to love everybody. This isn’t all in the 
book. Tabby, but what I tell you that isn’t 
in the book is true. I’m most glad the 
fairy stories ain’t true ; for if things did 
happen like what’s in the book, maybe 
you’d turn into a frog, and then. Tabby, I 
couldn’t hug you.” 

Here Tabby rubbed her head against 
Prue’s little arm. “ There,” said the child. 


172 


randy's summer 


‘^you knew what I said, didn’t you?” and 
she sprang up, catching Tabby in her arms 
to “ love her,” as she called it. 

“ Oh, did you hear me reading to my 
kitty ? ” shouted Prue, as she caught sight 
of her smiling audience. 

‘‘We heard ye, and I guess some of it 
was full as pretty as what was in the 
book,” said Mrs. Weston, and together the 
three wended their way back to the house, 
followed by Tabby. 


CHAPTER X 


THE APPLE-BEE 

The apple-bee was to occur on Thursday 
evening, and Mrs. Weston and Randy, with 
little Prue for “errand boy,” had been 
busily employed in preparation for the 
delightful event. Prue made a fine little 
page, so delighted was she to be useful. 

“ Bring me the yellow mixin’ bowl, Prue,” 
called Mrs. Weston. Into the closet darted 
Prue, and over to the table with the big 
bowl she hastened. “ Now what shall I do 
to help the apple-bee ? ” said she. 

“Perhaps the apple-bee would like to 
have you puU all the stems off these 
raisins,” said her mother, laughing. So 
Prue sat down upon the large braided rug 
near the door and began to stem the raisins 
with all her might. Soon Mrs. Hodgkins 

173 


174 


randy's summer 


arrived and imperiously ordered her hus- 
band to “ lug in that crock from the wagon.” 

“ For mercy’s sake ! ” ejaculated Mrs. 
Weston, whatever have you got there ? ” 
as, puffing and blowing, Joel Hodgkins 
landed an immense stone crock upon the 
kitchen table. 

“Well, I’ll tell ye,” said Mrs. Hodgkins; 
“ I know this is no donation party, but I 
had this big crock er doughnuts, and I says, 
says I, ^ Somebody will eat ’em ef I take ’em 
over,’ so here they be.” 

“ Sophrony wouldn’t think she was takin’ 
part in the bee if some of her prize dough- 
nuts wasn’t in the treat.” 

Every one laughed at Joel Hodgkins’s 
speech, and the doughnuts were very kindly 
received. 

“We all know that your doughnuts are 
the best in town,” said Mrs. Weston, “and 
I guess everybody’ll be glad to have one. 
I’m sure — ” but the remark was left 
incomplete as she hastened to the door to 
admit Mrs. Jenks. 


THE APPLE-BEE 


175 


“ How are ye, Mrs. Weston ? I had Reu- 
ben drive me over, and I’ve brought a lot 
of those big red apples, ef ye don’t mind 
havin’ ’em. Reuben an’ I have rubbed 
and polished ’em ’til they shine like every- 
thing. I thought maybe they’d make the 
table look pretty,” and she flushed as she 
offered this first contribution of her life. 

“They will look handsome,” said Mrs. 
Weston. “ I declare it was real thoughtful 
in you to bring them. Why, for goodness’ 
sake ! How many did ye bring ? ” as Reu- 
ben arrived with basket after basket, which 
he placed in a row upon the table, and 
then commenced to make another row upon 
the swing table on the opposite side of the 
room. 

“I’ve no idee how many there is,” said 
Mrs. Jenks. “Reuben an’ I commenced 
rubbin’ and polishin’ ’em right after break- 
fast, and we never stopped rubbin’ ’til we 
was ready to start. Then we packed in the 
baskets, and here we be.” 

Meanwhile the neighbors had removed 


176 


bandy's summer 


bonnets and shawls, and three energetic 
housekeepers, with the help of Randy and 
little Prue, succeeded in “ keeping things 
moving,” as Mrs. Jenks had expressed it. 

Suddenly, Jotham Potts’s dark face 
peeped in at the door, with, Say, Mrs. 
Weston, I’m a master hand at chopping, so 
any time I can help, just give me a chop- 
ping knife and tray, and I’ll work like a 
major.” 

“ I’ll bear ye in mind, and call ye when 
I want ye,” answered Mrs. Weston, and 
Prue rushed to the door to offer him a 
handful of raisins, saying, “ I give them to 
you, Jotham, ’cause you’re the biggest and 
the nicest boy I know.” 

“ Thank you, pussy. Hey ! where are 
you now ? ” and he swung the child lightly 
up on his shoulder. 

“ May I go with J otham ’stead of pick- 
ing any more raisins ? ” 

“ Yes, run along,” said her mother, glad 
to have her in the care of some one whom 
she could trust to keep her out of mischief. 


THE APPLE-BEE 


177 


So busily did every one work that by 
Wednesday night the cooking for the spread 
was completed. Old and young had helped 
with a will to make the evening a success, 
and at last Thursday arrived, although 
Prue confided to Randy that she “ b’lieved 
it never would.” 

When the final decorations for the apple- 
bee were in place, everything needed for 
the sumptuous spread ready, there was 
absolutely nothing to do but wait patiently 
for the evening to come. 

The apples were to be cut, cored, and 
strung in the kitchen, the spread was to be 
in the “ settin’ room,” and all the rooms 
were decorated so gayly that they appeared 
festive indeed. Randy had decorated the 
best room,” making it gay with branches 
of autumn leaves, in gorgeous colors, and 
sprays of scarlet privet berries. 

The Babson girls had had a bright idea in 
regard to trimming the settin’ room.” 

‘‘ What’s the reason we can’t tie the corn 
husks together at the tip ends, and keep on 


178 


RANDY SUMMER 


tying ’til we get enough to go around the 
room, and then hang up the long string of 
ears and husks just above the pictures?” 
queried Belinda Babson. 

“ Oh, Belinda ! ” screamed Randy, “ that’s 
such a bright idea, what ever made you 
think of it ? ” 

“ I just did think of it, that’s all,” said 
Belinda, much pleased that her design for 
decoration met with approval. So the 
girls rushed out to the barn to find Mr. 
Weston and ask permission to use the corn. 

“ Land, yes,” he said when approached, 
“ use anything within reach, I say, so long 
as it helps to make the house look pooty ; ” 
so, laughing gayly, the girls filled their 
aprons with corn, and running to the 
house commenced, in furious haste, to tie 
the husks together. 

All the young friends had called that 
morning in a body to offer their help to 
Randy, and she had most gladly accepted 
it. 

While the girls were tying the corn 


THE APPLE-BEE 


179 


husks, Jotham Potts and Reuben Jenks 
were making themselves very useful, for 
by this time the girls had discovered that 
it required a great many ears of corn with 
which to garland or festoon the room. The 
boys brought the corn in wheelbarrow loads 
and then offered to help do the tying. 

“ Oh, boys couldn’t do this,” said Phoebe 
Small, who was much piqued to see that 
whenever Jotham sat down to rest, he sat 
near Randy. 

‘‘That’s one of your pleasant speeches, 
Phoebe,” said Reuben Jenks, before his 
friend Jotham could reply ; whereat 
Phoebe tied a hard knot in a corn husk 
with such unnecessary vim that it broke. 

Reuben laughed slyly; and Randy with 
her usual kindness, appearing not to notice 
the tilt, praised Phoebe’s pretty arrange- 
ment of red and yellow ears, and thus 
smoothed “ruffled feathers.” 

Jotham looked at Randy with real admi- 
ration. “ I b’lieve she always does the right 
thing,” thought the boy; so Phoebe’s spite 


180 


bandy's summer 


only strengthened the admiration of Randy’s 
young cavalier. 

I think I’ve got a first-rate notion for 
decorating,” said Jotham, ‘^and if you’ll 
let me and Reuben do it I tell you we can 
make that front walk as light as day, and 
as handsome as a picture for to-night, 
Randy,” and Jotham looked at the girl 
with eyes that sparkled with enthu- 
siasm. 

Of course I’ll let you do it, if it’s 
fine,” said Randy. 

“Now you needn’t ask questions, for 
it’s a secret ; and Reuben an’ me’ll do it, 
without telling anybody but your pa,” 
said Jotham, and out rushed the boys to 
hold a whispered conclave on the back 
stairs. 

“ My, won’t that be prime ! ” ejaculated 
Reuben, amazed at the brilliancy of Jo- 
tham’ s plan, and proud to he taken into 
a secret by a boy three years older than 
himself. 

Mr. Weston laughed long and loudly 


THE APPLE-BEE 


181 


when the boys unfolded their plan, and 
declared that he’d do his part of it now. 
Accordingly, he soon appeared in the path 
which led from the road to the door, and 
began to drive long stakes into the ground 
on either side of the walk. 

“What are you doing, father?” called 
Randy. 

“Drivin’ stakes, ain’t I?” he responded, 
and with that she was obliged to be contented. 
The boys were out of sight, and the girls 
wondered what they were doing; but when 
at night a line of brilliant lights glowed on 
each side of the walk, they willingly declared 
the decoration a success. 

Mr. Weston had driven the stakes quite 
near together and every one was capped 
with a jack-o’-lantern made from a great 
golden pumpkin, so that, from road to door- 
way, a line of grinning goblins served to give 
a flaming welcome. 

At last everything was in readiness and 
the guests began to arrive. Reuben’s 
mother had listened with much interest to 


182 


ranbt’s summer 


the boy’s scheme, and had insisted on 
donating all the pumpkins required. 

And now the wagons began to arrive, and 
great praise was bestowed upon the boys 
for their novel lighting of the walk. 
The pumpkins made very fine lamps, and 
one giant of its kind, fastened high above 
the door, smiled broadly upon each new 
arrival. 

Team after team drove up to the door, 
and shouts and laughter rang out on the 
crisp evening air as the guests first saw the 
gleaming lantern rows. 

At last nearly every one had arrived, and 
the rooms were bright with happy faces. 
In one corner a group of old ladies were 
chatting about the bees and huskings which 
they had enjoyed in their youth. 

The farmers and their wives were buzzing 
away over the latest bit of village gossip, 
the women telling it as they ‘^b’lieved it 
was,” and the men using convincing argu- 
ments to show that they had heard it 
“straight” at the store at the four corners. 


THE APPLE-BEE 


183 


Girls and boys tried to out-talk each 
other, and everywhere the children ran in 
and out, playing “hide-and-seek” behind 
the sturdy forms of their elders. 

Helen had coaxed Randy to refrain from 
brushing back every curling lock, telling 
her that her hair was made to curl ; and 
thus convinced, Randy appeared at the bee 
with a soft fluff of her light brown hair 
making a halo about her face. 

“ I must say Miss Dayton’s right ; I like 
the looks of it,” said Mrs. Weston, when 
Randy appeared before her with her hair 
dressed in the manner which Miss Dayton 
had suggested; so with much impatience 
Randy waited to see the look of approval on 
Helen’s face when she should arrive. And 
others were looking for Helen in whose 
honor this festival was planned. 

At last a resounding “ Whoa ! Be still, 
can’t ye?” announced the arrival of old 
Sandy McLeod, and great was the surprise 
w'hen, as Randy opened the door, Helen — 
smiling, radiant Helen — came in, saying. 


184 


BANDY’ 8 SUMMER 


‘^Good evening, friends,” and followed by 
her ancient cavalier, old Sandy. 

“ The lass is late because too many lads 
wanted to bring her,” said Sandy, his old 
eyes twinkling. 

“ That is true,” said Helen, laughing, “ too 
many lads, so I gave my choice to the 
eldest. Now for my bundle,” and stepping 
out into the centre of the room Sandy 
showed, for the first time, that he held a 
large parcel. 

‘‘I have a little surprise for you, dear 
friends,” said Helen ; I wished to offer my 
mite toward the evening’s pleasure, so I will 
ask Mrs. Weston to allow Mr. McLeod — ” 
Call me Sandy, lass,” said the old man, 
gently. 

“ To allow Sandy,” corrected the girl, to 
place this box on the centre of the supper 
table, to be opened when we are all seated 
around the spread.” 

So the big box held its place of honor, 
and great was the curiosity concerning it. 

The children now commenced to play 


THE APPLE-BEE 


185 


the needle’s eye,” an old game popular 
among the country children, which is very 
similar to London Bridge.” 

“ The needle’s eye it doth comply 
With the thread which runs so true. 

It has caught many a very fine lass, 

And now it has caught you.” 

Little Hitty Buffum found herself a pris- 
oner. However, she was soon kissed and 
released, and through the arch formed by 
clasped hands and uplifted arms trooped 
the children, keeping time to the sing-song 
chant of the queer verse. They saw noth- 
ing funny in the verse, however, and played 
the game with great enthusiasm. 

Meanwhile the apples were being pared 
by industrious hands and soon the “ string- 
ing ” began. Merrily the work went on 
with jokes and lively chatter, and before 
it seemed possible the task was completed. 

The boys now gathered up the parings, 
carried them away, and once more the room 
was in order. 


186 


bandy’s summer 


“ Now, friends,” said Randy’s father, 
let’s all have supper.” No one waited 
for a second invitation, and a cheery, happy 
party made a complete circle around the 
long table. What a spread that was ! Hot 
baked beans and brown bread, mince pies, 
pumpkin pies, gingerbread and doughnuts, 
nuts and apples, made a treat for a king,” 
said old Sandy McLeod. 

“Now, Mr. Weston,” said Helen, “please 
open my box;” and when the cover was 
removed a chorus of “ Ohs ” and “ Ahs ” 
greeted the sight disclosed. Helen had 
sent to Boston for an immense box of 
bonbons, and to those simple country peo- 
ple, who knew naught but home-made con- 
fections, the rose and violet tinted dainties 
looked like a fairy gift. But if they were 
unacquainted with such candies, it took a 
fabulously short time to learn to like them, 
and soon the bottom of the box appeared. 

Happy Helen, to have given so much 
pleasure ! And now the table which had 
been so bountifully spread was beginning 


THE APPLE-BEE 


187 


to look bare, for everybody had had a most 
excellent appetite, and had done full justice 
to the meal. The chairs were pushed back 
and old Sandy asked to have a bit of music. 
‘‘The little lassies who sang the other night, 
canna they sing ? ” said he, looking kindly 
at Prue and Katie, who were playing “bean 
porridge hot” together. 

“ Ain’t any pi-ano here,” said Katie. 

“Never mind that,” said Helen ; “I think 
if you and Prue sing the little songs which 
you sang the other evening so sweetly, Sandy 
will, in return, make some music for you.” 

“That I will,” responded the old man, 
heartily; “but there’s naught so blithe as 
the sound of a bairnie’s voice.” 

So wee Katie was mounted upon a chair, 
in lieu of a platform, and she sang the little 
solo, “ Once there was a little mouse,” giv- 
ing all the verses, and even remembering 
to make a little bow as Helen had taught 
her. Indeed, she bowed so vigorously 
that she barely escaped losing her balance. 
Then she hopped down, and little Prue 


188 


bandy's summer 


sprang up in her place, singing, “ Some- 
times I am a daisy bloom,” just as she 
had sung it at Mrs. Gray’s on the evening 
of the tableaux. When she had finished 
the last lines, 

“And next to those I love the best 
I love each one of you,” 

she kissed her little finger tips to her 
ad mil-in g audience, as Helen had taught 
her to do. 

Every one applauded, and old Sandy 
called the children to him, saying, ‘‘I’ll 
make the music for ye now, I wad na hae 
the heart to refuse,” and rising hastily he 
left the room. Every one was surprised at 
this abrupt movement and wondered if the 
childish voice had moved him too deeply, 
awakening the memories of his Scottish 
home and friends. 

Silent he had ever been in regard to 
home and kindred, answering questions in 
a manner which invited no further queries ; 
but since Helen’s stay in the village he had 


THE APPLE-BEE 


189 


warmed wonderfully toward his neighbors, 
and seemed quite unlike the silent old man 
whom they had known. 

But while they were wondering about 
his absence, Sandy reappeared. What a 
change ! Arrayed in all the bravery of a 
Scottish chieftain, old Sandy stood before 
them, a picture indeed. 

Over a kilt of tartan he wore the red 
coat and plaid, and on his head, crowning 
his white locks, sat a genuine Scotch “ bon- 
net,” with an eagle feather black as night. 
In his hands he carried the bagpipes, and 
while the children stared, open-mouthed, 
Sandy commenced to play. “ Scots Wha 
Hae ” rang out with a wonderful skirl, fol- 
lowed by “Bonnie Prince Charlie,” “Jock 
o’ Hazeldean,” and a half dozen more, until 
old Nathan Lawton declared that there was 
no keeping still with such music, and when 
at his request the pipes commenced to play 
a rollicking reel, old Nathan remarked that 
he used to cut “pigeon wings” and he 
guessed he could now, took his position in 


190 


randy's summer 


the centre of the floor, and proceeded to 
cut them in a wonderful manner. 

If the children were delighted, so were 
their elders, for was this not a treat of 
which they had not dreamed ? and, best of 
all, two old people who had been so cold 
and forbidding now were warmed and 
charmed into a friendly feeling with all 
their neighbors. 

When Sandy and Nathan Lawton stopped 
to rest and regain their breath, the young 
people crowded around them to thank them 
and to examine the fine Scotch costume 
which Sandy wore. 

That’s a pretty dress and jacket,” said 
little Prue, admiringly, ‘‘and you’ve got 
such a long sash, too.” 

The child’s admiration for his costume 
pleased the old man, and it was of small 
consequence to him that she called his kilt 
a dress. Lifting Prue upon his knee, he 
stroked her short fair curls, telling her 
how like the little lass she was who used 
to be his playmate in bonnie Scotland. 


4 ^ 



*^Whv don’t you .send the Little Gikl a Letter?” Page liH 






THE APPLE-BEE 


191 


“ Is she big as me ? ” asked the little 
girl, all unmindful that Sandy’s child mate 
had had many years in which to grow. 

A moment the old man hesitated, then, 
very gently, he told the child upon his knee 
of that other child away in bonnie Scot- 
land ; told her that when his little mate 
was a child, he had been a child too ; that 
he had known her all his young life ; that 
she had grown old as he had, and now — 
but here he paused, and practical little 
Prue, looking up at him, asked, “ Is it far 
to Scotland ? ” Sandy told her that it was 
very far indeed. 

“ Too far to send letters ? ” was the next 
question. 

No,” he assured her ; it was not as far 
as that.” 

Then why don’t you send the little girl 
a letter ? ” questioned Prue. 

Those who had heard the question were 
fearful that the old Scotchman would be 
displeased. 

For a moment a look of amazement rested 


192 


bandy's summer 


on Sandy’s face as he stared at the innocent 
questioner ; then, as with an effort, he said, 
‘‘ I will, little lass, I will.” 

“I would,” said little Prue, ‘‘and tell 
her there’s another little girl, what you 
know, sends her love to her, will you, 
Sandy?” 

“ Bless the bairn ! Ye hae mair wisdom 
than ye ken ; ” adding under his breath, 
“a deal mair wisdom than Sandy McLeod.” 

It was Helen, who, while walking by his 
house, had heard Sandy playing the pipes 
ever so softly, and looking in, had seen 
him playing, and, at the same time, look- 
ing lovingly at the old Scotch costume as 
it lay spread out upon the wooden chest in 
which it was usually kept. She had coaxed 
a part of his story from him that day, and 
he had declared he felt better for the telling. 

The costume was one which his father 
had worn as chief of his clan when Sandy 
was a young man. There had been a dis- 
pute in which he and his father had been 
equally obstinate. 


THE APPLE-BEE 


193 


When the old man died, Sandy had left 
Scotland, taking with him the suit of tar- 
tan, the bagpipes, and, dearer than all, a 
letter in which his father forgave him for 
his part in the dispute. Further than this 
he refused to talk, saying nothing what- 
ever as to living kinsmen or friends. 

Having told a part of his story to Helen, 
to which she listened with ready interest 
and sympathy, it needed but a bit of judi- 
cious coaxing to get him to promise to play 
at the apple-bee. 

And now the gayety, which had lulled 
while every one had listened to the music, 
revived, and each one present seemed to 
be trying his best to out-talk his neighbor. 

Isn’t Miss Dayton’s blue dress the very 
handsomest dress you ever saw ? ” said 
Jemima Babson. 

Yes, and isn’t she the handsomest per- 
son you ever saw in any dress ? ” said 
Phoebe Small, looking sharply at Randy, 
who was looking unusually pretty with her 
hair dressed to show its curls and ripples. 

o 


194 


bandy's summer 


‘‘Miss Dayton’s splendid, we all know 
that,” said Jothara, blushing furiously; “ but 
it don’t make it out that Randy Weston 
isn’t amazing pretty.” 

And here another voice chimed in, “ Did 
yer ever taste anything like that candy in 
yer life?” 

“ It was just splendid, and I do b’lieve — ” 

“ Have ye noticed Mrs. Jenks ? I do 
declare, she’s as much different from what 
she used ter be as possible. Why, she sent 
them fine apples, and gave the hull of them 
pumpkins, and — ” 

Just at this point Mrs. Buffum ejaculated, 
“ Well, as I live ! ef it ain’t half-past ten 
o’clock,” and she commenced at once to 
collect her brood. All were loath to leave 
the joyous scene, but the lateness of the 
hour made it imperative. Some one pro- 
posed a song before saying good night, and 
soon old and young voices chimed sweetly 
together as they sang : — 


All the year round, all the year lOund, 
What are the seasons to you or to me ? 


THE APPLE-BEE 


195 


Summer may go, bleak winds may blow, 

Roses crown winter if cheery we be. 

Sounds of the glad spring, pleasures the birds bring. 
These live in loving hearts where’er they’re found ; 
Sweet is the May time, sweet is the hay time. 

So sweet are loving lips, all the year round.” 

Hooray for the apple-bee ! Hooray for 
Miss Dayton!” shouted Reuben Jenks, 

Hooray for the bagpipes and the dance ! ” 
Every one cheered, and Jotham, laughing 
at his friend’s enthusiasm, shouted, “ Hoo- 
ray for every one and everything ! ” and 
they even cheered that; so, laughing and 
cheering, with lively chatter and snatches 
of song, wraps were donned and good nights 
said. 

After the last guest had departed, Randy 
turned from the doorway, and going back 
into the house she sat down opposite her 
father, a happy smile upon her lips. 

‘^Well, Randy,” said her father, kindly, 
as he saw she had something to say. 

“ Oh, father,” she said, “ doesn’t it make 
you happy - o see every one having a good 
time ? ” 


196 


randy’s summer 


‘^Yes, indeed, it does,” said father and 
mother together. 

“ I mean to try always to make people 
happy,” said Randy. 

So do I,” said little Prue ; but now 
let’s go to bed.” 

Randy laughed, and saying, “ You’ve 
done bravely, Prue, to keep your eyes open 
to-night,” led her little sister up the stairs 
to their tiny chamber, where soon they were 
fast asleep. 

The Babson girls talked until after mid- 
night over the evening’s entertainment, 
declaring it to be the ‘‘very greatest bee 
they ever went to.” 

Phoebe Small, having no sister to talk it 
over with, kept the candle burning until 
late that night, while she wrote in her diary 
a lengthy description of the event. Phoebe 
had heard her mother tell of keeping a diary 
when she was young, so, of course, Phoebe, 
who ardently admired her mother, immedi- 
ately commenced to keep one. 

Old Sandy McLeod, as he gallantly helped 


THE APPLE-BEE 


197 


Helen Dayton to alight at Mrs. Gray’s door, 
thanked her over and over again for the 
pleasure she had given him in allowing him 
to be her escort, telling her that he was 
glad enough that she had urged him to play 
the pipes, since the music had given such 
pleasure ; adding, “ Old Nathan and old 
Sandy hae’ na been the best of friends and 
neighbors, but to-night we hae shaken hands 
an’ we’re to be friends forever.” 

Oh, I’m so glad,” said Helen. 

“And ane thing mair, lass,” he inter- 
rupted, “about that letter the little lass 
was talking of, I’ll write it to-night ! ” 

“ It is late, now,” said Helen. 

“None too late to write. I’ll do it to- 
night and sen’ it to-morrow, as sure as I’m 
Sandy McLeod.” 

True to his word, Sandy sat at his table 
•>until late into the night, writing a long, 
long letter. The candle flickered as his 
hand moved back and forth across the pages. 

Many times he paused while writing, and 
with his head resting upon his hand, he 


198 


randy’s summer 


seemed to be thinking how best to express 
himself, so that his message might find 
favor with his old friend and playmate. 

At last, apparently, the letter was com- 
pleted satisfactorily; for as the old man 
arose from the table, a faint smile flitted 
across his face. 

Crossing the room to the old chest by the 
window, he fumbled about until he brought 
from its depths a little package ; then, 
walking to the table, he placed the tiny 
parcel between the folded pages of the letter, 
put the letter into its envelope, and with 
utmost care addressed it, reading the address 
over three times to make sure that it was 
correct. Under his pillow he placed the 
letter, saying, With the light o’ day I’ll 
start ye on the journey.” And of all the 
merry party who laughed and sang away 
the hours at the apple-bee, not one possessed 
a happier heart than Sandy. 

And Helen murmured, softly, as she lay 
half awake and half asleep, ‘‘Every one 
was happy to-night.” 


CHAPTER XI 


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 

The sun rose in golden splendor one 
morning to find that a curtain of purple 
haze prevented his sunship from showing 
all his dazzling glory. 

It was indeed a typical October morning 
in New England. For a time the haze pre- 
vailed, holding her own bravely against the 
sun, who struggled for supremacy ; but at 
last he rose triumphant, the mist softly 
melting away beneath his vj;arm rays. 

How fair and tall the slender birches 
looked as the bright rays gilded their 
white trunks ! How cool and deep the 
little pool which reflected the birches and 
brakes which overhung its edge; and far 
away across the field a great black crow 
flew, cawing as he winged his way, then 
199 


200 


randy's summer 


perched upon a slender twig which swayed 
beneath his weight. Tiny sparrows twit- 
tered and chirped as they hopped 
about among the dried weeds, searching 
among the seed vessels for a possible break- 
fast. 

Truly, all things were beautiful that 
morning ; and Randy, from her chamber 
window, looked out upon the lovely scene, 
and on her face a smile and tear appeared, — 
a smile on the sweet lips in memory of the 
summer’s pleasure; a tear at the thought 
of Helen’s departure. 

‘Ht has been the nicest summer I have ever 
known,” mused Randy, softly. “Everything 
has looked prettier since she taught me how 
to look at things. How sweetly she thanked 
me for the rose I cut for her without spill- 
ing one of the dewdrops. ’Twas only a 
little thing, yet she thanked me as if the 
dewdrops were diamonds. Why, she just 
made me wild to find something to give to 
every one, if giving made such pleasure. I 
remember that I said I often wished I had 


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 


201 


more to give, and she showed me, oh, so 
plainly, that a smile or a pleasant word 
was worth the giving that I felt at once 
as if I were rich ; for any one can say a 
pleasant word and all of us can smile. 
Oh, she’s done us ‘a world of good,’ as the 
parson’s wife said.” 

While Randy dreamed at her window, 
Helen stood in the doorway at Mrs. Gray’s, 
and she, too, was thinking of the summer 
so happily spent. 

Soon she would be at home, and in a few 
months the winter season would bring a 
round of social engagements. 

Why had the days so quietly spent 
seemed so charming ? What was the 
secret of their charm? Happy she had 
been, — very, very happy, — and so swiftly 
had the weeks sped that it seemed impossible 
that October had arrived. She had chosen 
to spend the summer, contrary to her usual 
custom, in a little country village, with no 
other thought than that in such a place she 
could be sure of rest and quiet. 


202 


randy's summer 


She was a girl of generous impulses, and 
after becoming acquainted with the people 
of the neighborhood of the Gray homestead, 
many an opportunity for a gracious word 
or a generous action presented itself. How 
gently and with what ready tact she had 
made herself a friend to young and old, 
was proven by the genuine regret manifested 
whenever her departure was mentioned. 

Helen had a host of friends of whom to 
take leave, and all were charmed and 
gladdened to hear that they would see 
her sweet face again sometime during the 
winter. She had called to see old Sandy 
once more before her departure, and he 
had had a wonderful bit of news to tell. 

The letter which he had written after his 
return from the apple-bee he had posted 
early on the following morning. It was 
addressed to Miss Margaret McLean, and 
Sandy explained that, as her father had 
been a prominent manufacturer in the little 
Scottish town in which they had lived for 
years, holding large business interests and 


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 


203 


owning a number of mills which bore his 
name, the daughter, his only child, must be 
well known there; so he had trusted that 
the letter, written after so many years’ delay, 
might be promptly delivered. 

Strangely enough, it had never occurred to 
Sandy to wonder if his old playmate were 
still living. To his great joy, an answer 
to the letter came sooner than he had 
expected. She was still waiting for him, 
she said, as she had ever waited, hoping 
that the time would come when he would 
forgive her for teasing him, — it had been 
but a girlish freak, — and tell her that he 
loved her as of old. 

Her father bad lost much of his money 
before he died, but she had a ‘‘ bit of prop- 
erty,” she said, and she had sold her little 
cottage and would leave on the next steamer 
for America. She would bring with her a 
little Scotch lass, an orphan whom she had 
befriended and trained to be a little maid- 
servant; and, insisting that Sandy should 
meet her and go at once to some kirk to be 


204 


randy's summer 


married, she closed her letter with love 
to Sandy and a blessing for Helen and the 
wee lass, Prue. To Helen’s congratulations 
he would only say, It’s your doing, lass, 
yours and the bairnie’s.” 

Sandy confided to Helen that he had 
been afraid that Margaret might doubt that 
he and the Sandy McLeod of her youth 
were one and the same ; but, he added : “ I 
had a proof, I had a proof, lass ! I had 
a lock o’ her bonnie hair tied wi’ a knot 
o’ blue ribbon. I knew she’d na for- 
get gi’en’ it to me, and I put it in the 
letter.” 

That was clever,” said Helen. 

An’ she said she’d bring it back wi’ her 
when she sailed for America,” added the 
old Scotchman, joyously; and Helen left 
him happy in the thought that although 
her farewell saddened him, there soon 
would be a dearer friend to greet him. 

Farmer Gray had driven to the village 
early that morning, and when he returned 
he greeted Helen cheerily, at the same time 


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOB 205 

handing her a letter, saying, “ I hope it is 
full of good news, Miss Dayton.” 

It proved to be a letter from her aunt, 
urging Helen to start at once for home, as 
an uncle who had not seen her since she 
was a very little girl was making a short 
stay in Boston, and wished very much to 
see his niece before he returned to his home 
in a western city. 

“ I am proud of you, Helen, as you know,” 
wrote the dear old lady, “and I so earnestly 
wish Robert to see you that I wish you 
would start as soon as you receive this 
letter.” 

Helen left for Boston early that morning, 
asking Mrs. Gray to tell Randy that she 
would write to her as soon as she reached 
home. Helen’s departure was only a day 
earlier than she had intended, yet she 
regretted to leave in such haste. She had 
wished to bid Randy and dear little Prue 
an affectionate good-by and reiterate her 
promise of a flying visit sometime during 
the winter months. 


206 


bandy's summer 


As she sat looking out of the car window 
and watched the little town receding, she 
thought of Randy’s sweet face, and like a 
vision it appeared before her with grieved 
eyes and quivering lips, just as she knew 
the girl would look when Mrs. Gray told 
her of her friend’s departure. Then a bright 
thought occurred to her, and a happy smile 
played about her lips. 

Opening her little bag she took from it a 
block of paper, such as she had used for 
memoranda, and with a pencil she com- 
menced a note to Randy. She would obtain 
an envelope and stamp as soon as she reached 
Boston. Helen possessed a merry wit, and 
leaf after leaf of the little block she filled 
with a breezy account of her journey. She 
described at length the man with three im- 
mense leather bags, who tried in vain to 
walk down the aisle with all that baggage, 
and was at last compelled to make three 
separate trips ; the old lady with a box con- 
taining a cat which mewed dismally all the 
way; the woman with four children, who 


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 


207 


seemed to have an endless supply of lunches, 
yet cried for more ; the boy peddling prize 
candy, and any number of small happenings. 

The writing served to make the long ride 
less tedious, and she knew that the letter 
would make Randy smile through her tears. 

When Randy and Prue appeared at break- 
fast time they were amazed to find Aunt 
Prudence at the table. 

Why, when did you come ? ” questioned 
Prue, abruptly, staring at her aunt as if that 
lady had been an apparition instead of a 
very tangible reality. 

‘‘ I came last night, after you children was 
in bed,” said Aunt Prudence, “ and I guess 
yoim father was ’bout as s’prised as you be.” 

Wal’, I guess I was,” said Mr. Weston. 

Ye was the last person I expected to see 
when I stopped near the depot to talk with 
neighbor Gray, but I was jest as glad to see 
ye as ef ye’d sent word ye was cornin’.” 

Mrs. Weston also hastened to assure her 
that her unexpected arrival was a pleasant 


208 


RANDY’S SUMMER 


surprise, but the children could not say a 
word. Prue was filled with a dread of 
Aunt Prudence’s sharp eyes, which would 
be sure to detect any sign of plotted mis- 
chief ; and Randy, knowing Prue’s intense 
dislike of supervision, realized that careful 
watching, amounting almost to strategy, 
would be necessary to keep the little girl 
from vexing Aunt Prudence, thereby actually 
showing her how intensely she disliked her. 

Although the morning hours were fully 
occupied, Randy was aware of a subtle 
sense of change in Aunt Prudence. She 
looked as angular and austere as before, 
but her voice seemed less shrill, and her 
sharp eyes behind her glasses looked out 
with a softened light. 

“Perhaps we didn’t really know her 
before,” said Randy to Prue. 

“ P’r’aps maybe we didn’t,” answered 
Prue. “ She calls me Prudence same’s 
she did before, but she says it diffe’nt.” 

“ That’s it,” said Randy, “ her voice is 
pleasanter.” 


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 


209 


^‘And her eyes isn’t always looking at 
me, so I don’t darest to move,” said 
Prue. 

Randy turned away quickly, that Prue 
need not see her laughing. The idea 
that any one could prevent her little sister 
from indulging in almost perpetual motion, 
seemed utterly funny to her. 

Half an hour later Randy chanced to 
hear Prue talking to Tabby, just under 
the kitchen window. 

Now, Tabby,” she was saying, “ if you 
lie real still while I drag you ’round, you’ll 
get a lovely ride and nobody’ll ever know 
it ; but if you squirm and act naughty. I’ll 
put the. basket right back in Aunt Pru- 
dence’s room, and I won’t give you any 
ride at all.” 

Randy waited to hear no more, for upon 
looking out over the wide window-sill she 
espied naughty little Prue dragging Miss 
Prudence’s best cap basket around the 
dooryard. She had made Tabby lie in the 
basket, then pressing down the cover 


210 


BANDY'S SUMMER 


she had fastened the little straw loop and 
thus locked Tabby into a very close car- 
riage. Out rushed Randy, to rescue 
Tabby and the pretty basket at the same 
time. 

What makes you think to do such 
naughty things, Prue Weston ? ” said indig- 
nant Randy ; “ don’t you know you’re 

plaguing Tabby and Aunt Prudence at the 
same time ? ” 

Tabby likes to ride,” asserted Prue, 
“and I don’t care if I do plague — ’’but 
the mischievous little elf did not finish the 
sentence, for on looking up, there stood 
Aunt Prudence in the doorway. 

Randy’s face was suffused with hot 
blushes, and Prue, naughty little Prue, 
looked completely abashed. 

Aunt Prudence was the first to speak. 
“ Bring my basket to me,” said she, 
abruptly, but not unkindly. 

Slowly Prue unfastened the cover of the 
pretty, round cap basket, and with even 
more moderation Tabby -stepped out, stop- 


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 


211 


ping to yawn and stretch while her hind 
legs were still in the basket. 

Prue stooped and energetically lifted her 
out upon the ground. Randy watched 
Aunt Prudence while Prue walked very 
slowly toward her, the forefinger of her 
left hand in her mouth, while with the 
right hand she reluctantly handed the 
basket to its owner. 

Did Aunt Prudence smile ? Randy 
thought she espied a twinkle in the 
sharp eyes behind the glasses. 

^‘Now,” said Aunt Prudence, “s’ pose you 
come into my room while I show you some- 
thing worth looking at.” 

Into the house, slowly following Aunt 
Prudence, went Prue and Randy, filled with 
mingled curiosity and dread of the thing 
which they were soon to see. 

Aunt Prudence bent over her little hair- 
covered trunk, lifting aside this parcel and 
that until, oh, could it be true, a cunning 
little wooden cradle, painted bright red, 
made Prue utter a shrill cry of delight. 


212 


randy's summer 


“ Oh ! oh ! is it for me ? ” cried Priie. “ Oh, 
I am so sorry I was naughty ! ” 

Aunt Prudence put the cradle into Prue’s 
chubby hands, who at once held it up for 
Randy to admire. 

“It’s a beauty,” said Randy. “Oh, Prue, 
you’d ought to be good now.” 

“I will,” said Prue; then, turning to 
Aunt Prudence, she said, “ I guess I almost 
love you now, and I won’t ever plague 
you.” 

“ Well, I guess my basket ain’t hurt much 
this time; but don’t borry it again, child. I 
guess the cradle will ’bout fit Tabby.” 

“ Oh, I do b’lieve it will ! I’ll go and 
^ medjure ’ her in it,” said Prue, and away 
she scampered in search of her kitty. 

Left alone with her aunt, Randy hesi- 
tated a moment, then venturing a step 
nearer, she said, “ I think you were very 
good to give the pretty cradle to Prue just 
when she’d been so naughty; hut,” added 
Randy, as usual anxious to shield her lit- 
tle sister, “she isn’t always naughty, and 


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 


213 


now I’m ’most sure she’ll try to please you.” 
She looked up wistfully, hoping for a kindly 
word for Prue whom she loved so dearly. 

“Children will be children,” said Aunt 
Prudence, with a grim smile. “I guess 
she’s no wuss’n the average.” 

“Father says you never had days of 
being naughty when you were a little girl, 
so I should think Prue’d seem extra naughty 
to you,” said Randy, slowly moving the toe 
of her shoe back and forth along the cracks 
in the floor. As she glanced shyly at her 
aunt, hoping for one more consoling word 
in regard to Prue, she was much surprised 
and relieved to see Aunt Prudence actually 
smiling. 

“ I guess your father’s forgot about the 
tiiHe I threw his hat down the well to see 
if it would float.” 

“ Did you do that ? ” asked Randy, in 
surprise. 

“ Yes,” said Aunt Prudence, “ and what’s 
more, I did it on purpose to plague him. 
He was goin’ fishin’, and I wanted to go, 


214 


RANDY ’ff SUMMER 


too. He said girls wus no good at fishin’ 
and went to the shed to get his rod and line, 
whistlin’ in a way that provoked me. His 
hat was on the grass near where I was 
standing, and, quick as a flash, I snatched 
it up and threw it down the well, thinkin’ 
it would delay his fishin’ trip for one while. 
It didn’t, though. He went bare-headed; 
and soon’s ’twas found out what I’d done, 
I got punished for spoilin’ his hat. Yes, 
your father remembers my good days, an’ 
it’s just like him to forget that I ever had 
naughty ones. But, Randy,” she said 
abruptly, ‘‘ye don’t ask if I brought any- 
thing in my trunk for you.” 

“ Why, I never thought of it,” said 
Randy. 

“ Like enough,” said Aunt Prudence ; “ it 
seems to me ye nearly always think of 
somebody besides yourself, Randy. I must 
say, I approve of ye. Yer father, every 
time he writes me, has something ter tell 
of you children ; and now you jest help me 
unpack my trunk, an’ I’ll show ye some- 


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOB, 216 

thing that, ef I ain’t mistaken, will please 
ye mightily.” 

“ Indeed, I’ll help you. I’ll like to,” 
said Randy, and soon the contents of the 
trunk were spread upon the bed. Those 
garments which could be hung up were 
placed upon hooks in the closet, and other 
articles were neatly folded in the bureau 
drawers. One puffy-looking package re- 
mained ; this Aunt Prudence placed in 
Randy’s hands, saying, There, Randy, 
there’s the material for making some 
Christmas presents ; and if it makes ye 
happy. I’ll be glad of it.” 

Very eagerly Randy untied the parcel, 
and uttered a little cry of delight when 
the open wrapping disclosed some beauti- 
ful colored worsteds of various hues. 

“ I’ll teach ye ter knit while I’m here,” 
said Aunt Prudence. “ And now the even- 
ings are beginning to be cool, ye might 
begin ter make a pretty little shawl for 
yer mother out of that deep red worsted ; 
I guess there’s enough of it. That blue 


216 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


yarn will make some mittens for little 
Prudence, and the rest of it ye can do 
what ye like with.” 

Randy’s delight knew no bounds, and 
she could hardly wait to hunt for needles 
and have her first lesson in knitting. 

That night, in their little chamber under 
the eaves, the children talked of Aunt Pru- 
dence. 

I always said Aunt Prudence might be 
nice, if we really knew her,” said Randy. 

Yes,” said Prue, you ' said that when 
she was here before, I ’member it ; but, 
Randy,” she added, “that was when I was 
a little girl.” 

Randy stifled a laugh, “ Why, Prue, what 
are you now ? ” said she. 

“Now, Randy, you do know you med- 
jured me last Saturday, and you said Pd 
grdwed most a inch.” 

“Well, so you have,” said Randy, gently, 
“ and it’s likely you’ll grow a lot more this 
winter.” 

“Course I will,” said Prue, “and, oh. 


AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 217 

Randy, mustn’t Aunt Prudence have growed 
awful fast when she was a little girl ? Just 
think how big she is now ! She’s growed 
good awful fast, too, Randy,” she continued, 
“ for she wouldn’t have gived me that little 
cradle for anything the last time she was 
here, would she, Randy ? ” 

Randy ignored this question. 

We ought to be going to sleep, Prue,” 
she said ; “ but Pll tell you something first : 
I mean to be just as nice to iiunt Prudence 
as I can, while she stays here.” 

So do I,” said little Prue. I told her 
to-day when her needle plagued her, I told 
her I’d fred all her needles when she was 
sewing, and you’d never guess what she 
said, Randy. She said I was a good little 
girl, — she did, truly.” 

The patter of raindrops on the roof soon 
lulled the children to sleep, and in their 
dreams Aunt Prudence figured as the God- 
dess of Plenty, distributing gifts with lavish 
hands. 


CHAPTER XII 


A WEDDING FEAST 

Sunday morning Randy and Prue were 
early at church, and as they leaned back 
against the pew, in expectation of one of 
Parson Spooner’s long sermons, Randy put 
her hand in her pocket and lovingly caressed 
a square envelope which she had placed there 
before starting for church. 

“ Got any candy in your pocket, Randy? ” 
eagerly questioned Prue, as she' leaned 
toward her sister. Randy shook her 
head. 

‘‘ Didn’t Jotham give you some when he 
speaked to you at the door?” she asked in 
such a loud whisper that Randy ejaculated 
“ sh-sh,” and again shook her head. 

Then what’s in your pocket ? ” persisted 
Prue. 


218 


A jvi:ddijvg feast 


219 


Randy drew Helen’s precious letter from 
her pocket, showing just enough of the 
envelope to satisfy Prue’s curiosity. Then 
tlie little girl took a hymn book from the 
rack, and with her wee forefinger com- 
menced to point out, and at the same time 
name those letters which she knew. She 
found every 0 upon the page, then every 
S, and Randy thought best to let her thus 
amuse herself as, at least, she was quiet — 
a most unusual thing. 

Helen had mailed the letter at once 
upon reaching Boston, and Mr. Weston 
had brought it from the village on the fol- 
lowing day and placed it in Randy’s hand 
as she sat listening to Mrs. Gray, who had 
called to deliver Helen’s message. 

“ A letter for me, father ? ” questioned 
Randy in surprise. ‘‘ Why, who’s it 
from ? ” 

Mr. Weston laughed. “ Shouldn’t won- 
der if ye had to open it to find out, Randy,” 
said he. 

Randy opened it and laughed with delight 


220 


RANDY’S SUMMER 


when she found it was from Helen. She 
had read it three times and had taken it to 
church with her, because she said she “just 
couldn’t leave it at home.” 

So Sunday morning Randy kept her 
mind upon the sermon, and her hand 
upon the letter. The sermon had been less 
lengthy than usual, and when the good 
old pastor had closed the Bible, he re- 
moved his spectacles; and as he slowly 
wiped them, he said : “ Dear friends, I have 
a notice to give to-day, or perhaps I should 
say an invitation, and there could be no 
better time or place for what I have to say. 

“A quiet wedding ceremony took place 
at a little church in New York City, the con- 
tracting parties being our friend and neigh- 
bor, Mr. Sandy McLeod, — or, as the papers 
have it, Alexander McLeod, — and Miss Mar- 
garet McLean of Scotland, an old playmate 
and friend, from whom our friend has been 
separated many years. I have received a 
delightful letter from him in which I am 
asked to make this announcement, and to 


A WEDDING FEAST 


221 


say that they will be at home on Wednes- 
day evening. They extend an invitation 
to all the good people of this town to be 
present, and an especially urgent request 
that all the children be , there.” 

What a stir that announcement made! 
What a great event I 

Sandy’s farm was one of the finest in 
the neighborhood, and his house the largest 
and most substantial in the place ; but 
Helen and Parson Spooner were the only 
people who had ever entered it, save Sandy 
himself and the men who worked for him. 

Fabulous tales the men had told of the 
fine things which the house contained ; so 
curiosity was rife regarding it, and now 
every one, even the little ones of the parish, 
were bidden welcome. 

After church Randy stopped a moment 
to speak to the Babson girls and Phoebe 
Small, to tell them of the letter from Helen, 
promising to read it to them if they would 
call on Monday afternoon. 

The girls promised, saying, ‘‘You can 


222 


randy's summer 


read us the letter, and then we’ll talk over 
the party, or whatever it is to be, at Sandy 
McLeod’s.” 

Promptly, on Monday afternoon, the 
girls arrived, and the letter was pro- 
duced and read. How they laughed at 
Helen’s bright description of the events 
of her homeward journey. Phoebe Small 
felt that in receiving the letter Randy had 
been especially favored. A little twinge of 
jealousy caused her to part her lips to 
make a sharp little speech ; but, remem- 
bering a promise to Helen, and her own 
resolution, she said pleasantly, ^‘You must 
have been pleased to receive it, Randy ; I’m 
glad she wrote it to you.” 

It was so unlike her usual remarks that 
the Babson girls looked at each other ; but 
Randy slipped her arm around Phoebe as 
they stood by the window, and Phoebe felt 
rewarded. 

They talked earnestly over the event of 
Wednesday ’ evening, and all were enthusi- 
astically expectant. 


A IFEDDmO FEAST 


223 


As the afternoon waned, the girls took 
leave of Randy, looking back as they went 
down the road to call to her, “ We’ll see 
you Wednesday night.” 

Wednesday proved to be a lovely day, 
and the evening sky was bright with 
stars, the air cold and crisp when the 
merry party drove up to Sandy’s door. 
As no one wished to be the first to arrive, 
a large party met at Mrs. Weston’s house 
and together they drove to the McLeod 
farm. 

The large house was ablaze with lights, 
and as the teams stopped, the door was 
opened wide and a cheery voice shouted. 
It’s glad we are to see ye, friends, come 
in, come in,” and Sandy led the way 
proudly to a silver-haired little woman, 
who stood waiting to greet her husband’s 
friends and neighbors. 

Such a sweet-faced little woman, who 
had a gentle, gracious word for every 
new friend, and a kiss for each one of 
the children. 


224 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


When Sandy brought Prue to b'^r, 
saying, “ This is the little lass, Margaret, 
wha said ‘ write the letter,’ ” she took the 
child upon her lap and put her arms 
about her, saying, ‘‘ Bless the bairn, will 
ye come sometimes to see me ? it wad 
gae me much pleasure.” 

Oh, yes, I will come,” answered Prue, 
if I may bring Randy. She’s my big 
sister, and there’s no one like her any- 
where.” 

Prue was assured that Randy would 
be more than welcome. Every one was 
charmed with the gentle little Scotch 
woman, who seemed equally pleased with 
her new friends. 

They sometimes found it a bit difficult 
to understand her. Sandy had been so long 
in America, and had tried so earnestly to 
be like his neighbors, that he expressed ^ 
himself in very good English, with here 
and there a bit of his old dialect appearing. 
His wife, however, had lived in a little 
town some miles distant from the city, and 


A WJSBDmG FJSAST 


225 


used many words which, while in common 
use in the Scottish village, were utterly 
unknown to her new friends. But her 
manner could not be misunderstood. It 
was unmistakably the manner of a gen- 
tle, lovely character, bearing good-will to 
all. 

The hum of conversation rose to a din 
as the young people laughed and chatted. 
All had been admiring the furnishings, 
which were indeed charming. There were 
some'quaint old chairs which had belonged 
to Sandy’s father ; a large family portrait 
hung on the wall above the fireplace ; 
some beautiful old candlesticks in which 
bright tapers burned ; and the evident de- 
light of their guests charmed Sandy and 
his dear old wife. 

Now, friends,” said Sandy, stepping for- 
ward, “ye ha’ all seen my Margaret, noo 
will ye walk this way and I’ll gie ye an- 
other surprise,” and he led the way to the 
end of the parlor, where he opened a door, 
and there at the head of a long table, spread 


226 


randy's summer 


with a feast such as no one in the village 
had ever seen, stood Helen Dayton. 

With a sharp cry of delight Kandy 
ran to greet her, and was folded in Helen’s 
arms. Then every one crowded about 
Miss Dayton, and many were the questions 
with which she was plied. 

‘‘I cannot answer all these questions,” 
she said with a merry laugh ; “ but I’ll tell 
you how I happened to be here again so 
soon. I hastened home, as many of you 
know, to see my Uncle Robert, who was to 
be in Boston but a few days, and on the 
day of his departure for the West I received 
the glad news of the wedding in a most 
delightful letter, which also contained a 
cordial invitation for me to be present and 
surprise you all to-night.” 

“ We’re glad enough to see you again,” 
said Jotham Potts, and a chorus of voices 
echoed the boy’s frank speech. 

Then the feast began. Such a treat it 
was to Sandy’s neighbors and friends. The 
•children were fairly wild with excitement. 


A WEDDING FEAST 


227 


A giant wedding cake graced the centre of 
the table, and the beautiful frosting, with 
its garlands of flowers and little sugar 
cupids, delighted the children, who thought 
it the finest thing which they had ever 
seen. 

A huge platter of roast turkey on one 
end of the table, and one of roast goose 
on the other, proved very tempting ; and a 
chicken pie with its fluted crust was not to 
be ignored. 

When these were removed, Sandy filled 
their places with huge fancy baskets of 
fruit; and still the candles burned and 
flickered, and the hum of merry voices filled 
the old house with gladness. At a late 
hour the happy party left, the neighbors, 
one and all, wishing the dear old couple 
every blessing, and promising to be as 
neighborly as their busy lives would permit. 

To Randy, Helen said : “ I shall not run 
away this time without saying good-by. 
I will come to-morrow and spend a little 
time with you, and then you may go with 


228 


BANDY *S SUMMER 


me to the village, where I must take the 
train for home.” 

Bright and early on the following day, 
Randy was up, singing as she moved about 
the kitchen, as usual, trying to help. 

“She’s coming to-day, she’s coming to- 
day,” sang Prue, as she skipped about the 
room, and Randy’s heart joined gladly in 
the song. 

At that very moment Helen was coming 
up the walk, and as she tapped lightly at 
the door, Prue ran to let her in. 

How bright she looked in her cloth gown 
and trim jacket, her feather collar and 
bewitching hat. She took off her wraps, 
as Mrs. Weston suggested, and sat down 
to chat with Randy. 

“ What is the news ? ” said Helen. 
“What has happened during my absence, 
Randy?” 

“ Very little has happened,” said Randy, 
“only a few things. School is to open 
next week; that’s a week earlier than 
last year, and Mr. Lawton says he’ll keep 


A WEBBING FEAST 


229 


his best room warni enough for us if it 
takes his whole woodpile.” 

“And I’m going to school,” said Prue, 
and she looked at Helen as if she expected 
to see that young lady stunned by such an 
announcement. 

“I’m going to study reading and rifm- 
tic,” she added, hoping to produce even 
more of an impression. 

Helen and Randy laughed, “ I hope they 
will reserve ‘ rifm-tic,’ ” said Helen, “ until 
a little later.” 

“ When there is snow,” said Randy, 
“we can coast on our sled down to Mr. 
Lawton’s house, without stopping ; and 
although I’m pretty tall this winter, I 
think I shall coast just as I did last season, 
only this year Prue will sit behind me.” 

“And Jotham ’most always drags her 
home, so she don’t have to walk ’t all,” 
said Prue, anxious to tell all the particu- 
lars. * 

“Randy is fortunate to have such an 
accommodating friend,” said Helen, “ and 


230 


RANDY’S SUMMER 


now I have something to tell you. I have 
been helping my aunt to make some plans 
for the winter, and I have really found 
three days at the Christmas holidays for 
which I have made no engagements, and, 
if it will please you, Randy, I will give 
those days to you.” 

Mrs. Weston paused in her work to say, 
‘‘We shall all be pleased to have you with 
us, and Randy will be wild until you come.” 

Helen had taken leave of Sandy and his 
wife at their home, so when Randy’s father 
brought the old horse and wagon to the 
door, she said good-by to Mrs. Weston and 
little Prue, and with Randy and her father 
rode to the depot at the centre. 

They arrived just a few moments before 
the train was due, and Helen and Randy 
walked up and down the platform, talking 
earnestly over the promised visit and the 
winter schooldays so soon to commence. 

“ I shall think of you every day,” said 
Randy, “ and I mean to study so hard this 
winter that some day, when I write, I shall 


A WFJ)DIJ>^G FUAST 


231 


be able to tell you that I am at the head of 
my class.” 

“ That is right,” said Helen ; ambition 
and hard work will accomplish wonders.” 

Just then the whistle sounded, and soon 
the train came around the curve and stopped 
at the little station. 

Very gently Helen kissed Randy, saying, 
‘‘ Remember I shall soon be here again.” 

Then the train started, and through her 
tears Randy saw Helen’s beautiful, smiling 
face at the window. When the last car 
was out of sight, Randy turned toward her 
father a face which was a combination of 
smiles and tears. 

“Well, Randy,” said he, “which is it, 
laughing or crying ? ” 

“ Both,” said Randy, “ crying because I 
am sorry to have her go, and smiling be- 
cause I know just when she will come 
again. And, now, father, I am going to 
tell you something. I mean to be the best 
scholar in school this year. I’d like to be 
able to talk and write as well as Miss Day- 


232 


randy's summer 


ton does. I don’t suppose I could do that, 
but I will come as near as I can,” and 
Eandy looked to her father for his ap- 
proval. 

“ That’s right, Randy, that’s right,” said 
her father, heartily, “and now. I’ll tell 
you something. Sandy McLeod says that 
if Nathan Lawton gives the use of his best 
room for a schoolroom to the children, he 
isn’t going to have Nathan outdo him, so 
he’s offered a prize of a five-dollar gold 
piece to be given to the best scholar at the 
school this winter. I am glad that you 
spoke your mind before you knew about 
the prize. I’m willing you should try for 
it, but I’m glad to know that you intended 
to study before you had any idea of a prize 
to be won.” 

“I’ll make myself a good scholar,” said 
Randy, “ and I’ll get the prize, too.” 
Randy never forgot that morning. 

Years after, the scene, in all its complete- 
ness, would rise before her with a perfection 
of detail that would for a moment startle 


A WFBBIJVG FBAST 


233 


her : the old mare leisurely crawling up the 
road toward home ; the stone walls along 
the sides of the road, still covered with 
blackberry vines, their foliage russet-colored 
against the cold gray stones, and their 
thorny stems red in the October sunshine. 

Across the fields the roads were dry and 
dun-colored, but in places the grass was 
still green, and over all the bright blue 
sky with its floating clouds. Birds twit- 
tered in the tree-tops or flew in swirling 
lines above the sunny fields, and every- 
where, although the trees were bare and 
the flowers gone, a feeling of gladness and 
cheer seemed present. 

Randy turned to speak to her father and 
found that he was looking curiously at her. 
“ Oh, father,” said she, “ I was just think- 
ing that it seems as if everything was glad 
for some reason this morning. I don’t 
know how to tell you just how I feel, but 
the sky seems so bright, the birds are sing- 
ing, and when I looked at you I thought 
that you looked glad too.” 


234 


RANDY'S SUMMER 


^‘Well, Randy, I see just what you mean. 
It is bright and glad and sunny to-day, and 
as to my looking glad, I think I ought to. 
I’ve got your mother, and Prue, and you, 
Randy, and I’ve got something more to be 
thankful for — something to be thankful to 
you for.” 

^‘Thankful to me!'' gasped Randy, in 
amazement. 

“Yes, Randy, yes. I got a letter last 
night. Ye know I went down to the centre 
after supper, and I didn’t get home ’til after 
you and Prue was in bed. Well, I wasn’t 
expecting to hear from anybody, special, 
and I never opened the letter ’til I’d put 
the cat out and fastened up. Then I 
thought of the letter and sat down at the 
table to read it. Yer mother was puttin’ 
the last stitches into a stockin’ she was 
mendin’ when I came to a place in the 
letter that made me hop. Mother came, 
and looking over my shoulder read the line 
I put my finger on. 

“ Randy, do ye remember that day last 


A WmJBmG FEAST 


235 


Slimmer when ye listened at the roadside to 
what Jason Meade was sayin’ ’bout makin’ 
me sell my pasture land to him ? Do yer 
rec’lect how ye run ’til ye was ’bout beat 
out to reach me ’fore he could, and how ye 
begged me not to sell ? ” 

“ Why, yes,” said Randy ; then in sudden 
fear, “ he didn’t make you, did he, father ? ” 
The girl’s wide open eyes looked anx- 
iously up into his face as she grasped liis 
arm and waited for an answer. 

“ Make me ! Well, I guess not ! Randy, 
that letter was from the big railroad com- 
pany, and, val’ble as I thought the land 
would be, they’ve offered me more’n I ever 
dreamed of. I shan’t be what city folks 
would call wealthy, but I’ll be ’stonishin’ 
well off. Your mother and I will be able 
to take things a little easier ; and, Randy, 
you shall have all the schoolin’ ye want, 
and so shall little Prue. I’d ’bout made up 
my mind to let Meade have that land, he 
seemed to have set his mind on it ; and I 
b’lieve I should have let him have it, ef you 


236 


bandy’s summer 


had gone on ter Mis’ Gray’s and stopped to 
tea with Miss Dayton, as you intended. 
But for you my land would have been in 
Jason Meade’s hands, and I might ’a’ whis- 
tled fer it. You gave up your pleasure to 
do the right thing at the right time ; as I 
said that day, I’ve got a daughter to be 
thankful for.” 

Oh, father,” said Randy, it seemed a 
little thing to do, but I was so anxious to 
reach you in time that I forgot everything 
else, even Miss Dayton and the tea at Mrs. 
Gray’s.” 

‘‘Well, ye did yer duty, Randy, even 
when ye feared the men would find ye 
listening and be angry. Always be brave 
to do right, as ye did that time, and ye’ll 
make a fine woman.” 

Small wonder that Randy remembered 
that morning’s ride ! The bright sunlight 
of her father’s commendation seemed to 
outshine nature’s sunshine. The thought 
that she had been instrumental in bringing 
good fortune to her parents, who had toiled 


A WEDDING FEAST 


237 


early and late, filled Randy’s heart with a 
gladness which she would have found diffi- 
cult to describe. 

Mr. Weston accepted the company’s offer 
for his land, and with their good fortune 
he and his wife seemed to have regained 
a bit of their youth ; and they were never 
happier than when making plans for Randy 
and Prue or lending a helping hand to 
some friend or neighbor less fortunate 
than themselves. 

Randy still indulges in day-dreams which, 
at present, are filled with anticipations of 
schooldays so near at hand, and the win- 
ter’s pleasures which the boys and girls 
of the village are already planning; and 
when next we meet Randy and Prue, it 
will be in ‘‘ Randy’s Winter.” 
















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WORKS BY GRACE LeBARON 


TOLD UNDER THE CHERRY TREES 

A BOOK FOR THE YOUNG 

Cloth. lamo. Illustrated. $i.oo 

“ Told under the Cherry Trees ” is a charming story of child life in a 
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LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, BOSTON 


AMERICAN GIRL’S SERIES 


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selected list of books for American girls, 
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Uniform Cloth Binding New and 
Attractive Dibs Price fl.OO each 

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3. Doctor Papa. 6. Flaxle’s Klttyleen. 

3. Little Pitchers. 6. Flaxie growing up. 

“ ' Flaxie Frizzle ’ is the successor of ‘ Dotty Dimple,’ ‘ Little Prudy,’ ‘ Fly- 
away,’ and the other charming creations of that inimitable writer for children, 
Sophie May. There was never a healthy, fun-loving child that would not, at 
one stage or another of its growth, be entertained with Sophie May’s books 
For that matter, it is not safe for older folks to look into them, unless thej 
intend to read them through. ‘Flaxie Frizzle’ will be found as br.Jit anc'. 
pleasant reading as the others.” — Boston Journal, 

Dotty Dimple Stories. By Sophie May. Six volumes. 

Illustrated. Per volume, 75 cents. 

1 . Dotty Dimple at Grandmother’s. 4. Dotty Dimple at Play. 

*. Dotty Dimple out West. 6. Dotty Dimple at School. 

3. Dotty Dimple at Home. 6. Dotty Dimple’s Flyaway. 

“The children will not be left without h'ulthful entertainment and kindly 

instruction so long as Sophie May (Miss Rebecca S. Clarke) lives and 
wields her graceful pen in their behalf. S.ic has made a close and loving 
study of childhood, and she is almost idolized by the crowd of “ nephews '>ia 
nieces” who claim her as aunt. There is a sprightliness about all of Miss 
Clarke’s books that attracts the young; and their purity, their absolute clean- 
liness, renders them invaluable in the eyes of parents and all who are interested 
in the welfare of children.” — Morning Star. 

BY SOPHIE MAY’S SISTER. 

The Little Miss Weezy Series. By Penn Shirley. Three 
volumes. Illustrated. Per volume, 75 cents. 

1 . Little Miss Weezy. H. Little Miss Weezy’s Brother. 

3. Littie Miss Weezy’s Sister. 

The author, Penn Shirley, is a sister of Sophie May, and, without being 
in the least a copyist, has given to her books something of the inimitable charm 
wnich belongs to the Little Prudy .Series. 

“ One of the freshest and most delightful, because the most natural, of the 
stories of the year for children is ‘Little Miss Weezy.* The book is full of 
humor, and is written with a delicate sympathy with tne feelings of chUdrsa, 

LEE AND SHEPARD, BOSTON, SEND THEIR COMPLETE CATALOOUE FREE. < . 










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